


After Extinction

by Forgotten_Logic



Series: Yeager Chronicles [1]
Category: Transformers, Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: (σ ͡■ω ͡■)σ, Accidental Voyeurism, Crosshairs is a naughty boy, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Holoforms (Transformers), I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, Matrix of Leadership and the Seed BS, Pissy Optimus is Pissy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, THIS SHIP IS NOT DEAD, Unintentional Voyeurism, everything will happen eventually, holo avatars, slip ups, slow updates because the author is a tired child and doesn't get sleep, yeager program
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/pseuds/Forgotten_Logic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, this begins with the fight with Optimus and Lockdown - where he basically gets sliced in half with Optimus' Knight's sword from the arm of Lockdown's ship. After all of this, Optimus does leave Earth and doesn't come back for some time. After five or so years, he does return, still with the seed in his possession. But with his return, Yeager seems to find it hard to live the possibility that Optimus will leave again, so naturally, he avoids the big mech. Optimus notices and something interesting happens to the both of them! Read and find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You see, it takes patience to make a man. The patience to watch and wait, to protect all of us, quietly, for God and country, without any recognition at all!” Attinger yelled while holding his gun straight at Cade Yeager, his own _‘alien gun’_ laid on the ground, just out of reach to be useful. Just in the background, Optimus’ battle mask slid off with a shout, “Cade!”

“There are no good aliens! Or bad aliens, Yeager,” he growled, “It’s just us and them.” Attinger’s finger slid to the trigger, but before he could pull it, Optimus beat him to it. Only needing to fire one shot, Attinger fell onto the ground back first. _Dead._ “Anytime,” Cade said, eyes wide, quickly dashing over for his gun. He kneeled behind a slab of concrete, taking shots at Lockdown.

Over across the chaos, Lockdown slammed his fist into the side of Optimus’ head, which caused him to release the sword of the Ancient’s. Lockdown took this advantage, grabbing the sword and forcibly shoving it just below that spark chamber. He couldn’t have just killed his bounty, he needed the last Prime _alive!_

“You saved the human instead of yourself? You bring shame upon us all!” Lockdown spat, shoving the sword just a bit deeper. But in the background, Bumblebee raced back over, with Tessa and Shane. Cade saw the yellow Camaro with the two, almost grimacing. “She never listens. Never.” He winced as he continued to fire. 

Cade was not the only one to notice, Optimus did too. “I gave you an order!” He yelled out, his voice barely heard over the chaos that was now beginning to rise up again. Bumblebee dropped the two humans. “Get out of here, now!” Bumblebee did no such thing, instead he fought against Lockdown, Cade shooting with his gun. “Hey, you!”

Optimus didn’t want this! He didn’t want the humans to get killed because they wanted to help, that’s why he sent off Bumblebee. He did not want something worse to happen to them. Trying with his might to dislodge the sword, but failing, yelled out, “Cade, get out of here! This is my fight!” Lockdown looked down at the yellow Camaro, scowling while landing a hit, sending Bumblebee back. “It’s my fight, and you’re all gonna die!” Bumblebee got back up to fight, flinging his legs to kick at the mercenary.   
Tessa and Shane found a tow truck and they did their best to drive it over. Shane drove around the lot, catching Lockdown’s legs in the mix, pulling him down to the ground. He trashed as he got back up. Tessa jumped out and ran taking hold of the end truck’s hook. Shane chanting to himself, “C’mon Tess, c’mon Tess.”

She ran up to the Prime, with the large hook, all the while Optimus still tried to squirm out of his stabbed state. “Get away, all of you!” Tessa jumped, and landed the hook onto the sword, yelling back to Shane, “Drive!” It’s not like he had to think twice, he drove at full force, full speed. And what luck too, it pulled out the sword. As it was flung out, Optimus was now free enough to grab and run towards Lockdown. Rage in his optics.

“You see my face, your life is done!” Famous last words of the mercenary. The sword of the great Knights of Cybertron was jabbed through, through the spark chamber. Optimus dragged his blade up, it tore straight from the spark to the top of his head, cutting him from middle to top in half. Rather gruesome in Cybertronian terms. And quite gruesome in human terms, even.

His body laid lifeless on the ground, his odd colored energon oozed out. “Honor to the end.” Optimus bowed his helm to the now dead mercenary, knowing that this battle was won.

The two children embraced, asked if they were glad that they met each other. The only time that Cade did not stop the two from ‘smooching’. But that calm was not long lived, Optimus took a grenade from Lockdown’s hip. “Hurry! Quickly! I’m setting off Lockdown’s grenade!” Yelled just before setting off, the three humans there jumped into his cab. As he drove off, that grenade did go off, leaving more of a mess in its wake.

Galvatron, who smirked from hill that overlooked the destruction, only then to turn to leave, the smirk never left his face. “We shall meet again, Prime, for I am reborn.”

With Cade and his daughter together again – in a less shoot-y situation – embraced each other. It was quiet a moment, but that quiet was broken by Cade. “Kind of nice being your hero for a change,” he whispered, holding Tessa just a little tighter. Her eyes welled up with tears, little scratches decorated her hands and head, choked out, “You always were. All my life… I love you.” That made Cade’s heart swell, last person she said she loved was Lucky Charms, least he wasn’t _just_ some person she dealt with. He held back his own, growing amount tears. “I love you, too.” Cade then sighed, “Let’s go home to graduation?” He smiled while pulling away slowly from Tessa. “Yeah.”

Turning to his daughter’s ‘boyfriend’, still have a smile on his face, “You’re okay, kid. Come here, you’re all right.”

“We don’t have a home, Dad. It blew up.” A collective frown took hold, but was knocked out when Joshua walked up to the small group. “I might be able to help you with that.” The four humans then had kind of a bear hug.

But now, Optimus stood tall and proud, as always. “This seed belongs to our Creators, whoever they are.” He stared down at the seed that he held, the one that could destroy everything that a tactical nuke could, frowning. “There remains a price on my head. I endanger you all if I stay. I shall take it where it can never be found,” His ‘Primely’ tone did not waver.

The humans collective bear hug separated, Cade coming closer to the Prime. “Will we ever see you again?” He looked up into the blue optics of the Prime, his own heart feeling constricted at the thought of never seeing him again.

Optimus sighed heavily, blinking his optics. “Cade Yeager, I do not know.” He rose his head towards where on the stars were starting to become visible along the horizon. “But whenever you look to the stars, think of one of them... as my soul.” Optimus took his free servo and made a closed fist over his spark chamber, then turning to face the rest of the Autobots. “Defend this family, Autobots, as they have you. Defend all they can be,” proudly he proclaimed.

Blasting off, Optimus left his Autobots and newly found human friends behind. His gaze unwavering onto the large, vast empty space, optics narrowed in a thin straight line. “There are mysteries to the universe we were never meant to solve. But who we are and why we are here are not among them. Those answers we carry inside.”

Thrusting more power into his flight, he continued, “I am Optimus Prime. Leave planet Earth alone. ‘Cause I’m coming for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

It has been four and a half years since Optimus Prime flew off from Earth to hide the Seed. But only because it was a few years ago doesn't mean it isn't still fresh in the minds of the Yeager family - and Shane.

Cade would never admit it openly, but he missed the giant alien robot. He was a giant mecha that Cade could marvel at in not only in an inventor's point of view but as a person. Anyone could say that he was a very well built mechanism. No one could ever deny it! (Not that anyone would ever try to deny the beauty he held, Cybertronian and human alike.)

But he would. So, Cade's way of hiding that he missed the mech was to drown in the thralls of invention! It worked for a time, but every good plan must have had a bad outcome now and then.

Just recently he found that he just didn’t have anything he wanted to create. There was nothing that just jumped out of the junk pile that screamed ‘build me’! It was like all his wanting to invent were throw away and forgotten and with Tessa off at university, and Shane out ‘driving for a living’ with Red Bull, that left Cade nearly alone humanity wise.

Crosshairs, Drift, and Hound were still there with Cade at his newly rebuilt home and barn, but the three really _still_ didn’t care for human interaction. The three were only good for an occasional wave and an almost eternal Hell on Cade’s fence line. (They – mostly being Drift and Hound going at it the most – would just throw each other and just spar along the fence line.) Bumblebee was with Tessa, that’s why he isn’t with the rest of the Autobots.

With that, Bumblebee would hold open a Comm for Cade – usually going through Hounds Comm system – every other day. She would ask what she normally would, “are you eating your dinner?”, “have you done anything since I left?”, and Cade’s personal favorite, “are you ever going to do something other than try to invent?” She never really said it, but she was sad for her dad. He still missed his deceased wife. One thing is for sure, and she didn’t know he missed Optimus to almost the same extent. And would never tell her.

He didn’t think it would matter all that much even if he _did_ tell her, so he never did over these past four and a half years. It’s not it would matter all that much anyway, saying that he misses the mech won’t bring him back from his space exploration to hide the Seed.

Sometimes Cade wondered why he didn’t just set the Seed off in the Arctic, like where the other _Transformium_ was found. That way, they could just mine what is made and make more Autobots and not let Galvatron get his nasty, grubby hands on the stuff to continue his ever growing and already large army. Now with mindless drones! But the Autobots numbers are down to the few, it would make sense to try and get more soldiers. It could have worked, and all without him leaving the planet.  
But that damn Prime, that damn Optimus fucking Prime! He has to be so self-sacrificing, always! He couldn’t stand to allow harm to come to the Yeager family, but now he’s floating around space, God knows where, finding a safe place to hide that Seed. It doesn’t mean that Cade doesn’t appreciate the actions taken by him for protecting his family, not only Cade’s family but what’s left of the Autobots, what’s left of his family.

All of these thoughts soon left Cade’s head as he pushed himself off his workbench. He was asleep-ish at a weird angle so his back was kind of thrown out. When he leaned back only a few knots in his back popped and cleared themselves away, but the action left a dull irritation where the pressure was released.

Walking out of the barn, just to see if it was morning or evening, found that it was morning. And it was early at that, the sun was barely above the horizon. He just stood there, looking back and forth from the grass that had become visible from the light of the dawning sun, his old Chevy truck, and ultimately landing his vision on two Autobots that were still there. Hound and Drift, Crosshairs went for a drive down the road and back a few times and sometimes to town, just to get away from these two.

They were sparing, but anyone who was only an onlooker, such as Cade, would think that the ex-Decepticon and the Wrecker hated each other. Not that far from the truth, but they only fought each other viciously. They were usually decent to each other when it came to making small talk or just normal conversation.

Just as his eye grazed over to the two who sparred, Drift was thrown and rolled through what once was a barbwire fence. Cade let out a groan. Another fence to fix, fucking fabulous. The two mecha didn’t even bother to notice that Cade was walking over there.  
“Guys, how many times do I have to say this? Don’t spar on the fence line, it’s already a pain in my ass when miss purple people eater comes here unannounced trying to sell the house,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. Drift, who rolled through the fence, got back to his pedes and looked down at Cade. “My apologies.” He then glanced back towards Hound. “I won’t speak for this buffoon, however.”

“Oh, you wanna play that way, you little glitch-head?” Hound glared at the mech. Drift rose up a little more, giving the ex-Wrecker a sidelong look, not answering. “Either way guys, go somewhere else. Just not on the fence!” Cade threw down his hands and pointed at the messed up barbwire. The glare was shifted to just a lax frown. “Aye Cade,” said Hound, while turning around and waving his hands in the air as he walked off. Sighing, Cade took his leave but was stopped.

“Cade.” The blue and black mecha samurai looked down at him. “I sense something is troubling you.” Returning to his stance of look up at the mecha, he blinked. “What gave you that idea now?” The azure optics of the mecha dimmed, as if in thought.  
“You seem to be as humans could call, ‘bitchy’,” Drift said at first, only narrowing his optics, “Forgive me for being blunt, but when you walked out of the barn with just a look that could kill. You just looked infuriated.”

Cade couldn’t help but shake his head with a small chuckle. “Wouldn’t you be a little upset if your stuff was getting broken?” He then rested his hands on his hips, the mecha shook his head. “I would, but that was not the point. Your very essence was different.” Cade found himself tilting his head like a child, but didn’t bother changing his stance. “I’m not sure I follow. But, I can say I’m fine, man! I’m okay.” Waving a dismissive hand, Cade nearly turned to leave – again – but was stopped again.

“Bumblebee tells me that he and Tessa and Shane will be coming soon for a visit.” A small smile came to Cade’s face. He hadn’t seen either of the three for a good four months. It was nice idea to have them over, even Shane. “Soon. How soon is soon?” The samurai mecha only gave a shrug in reply. “He never specified,” he sighed.

“Alright. Alright, well, I’m going to fix a few things up then.” The mecha nodded. “That would be most wise.” He then turning and left to return to his sparring with Hound. Cade disappeared into the house for a bit first to get some breakfast and pick up a few things. There were only a few items that were littered around; he hadn’t really been in the house.

It was a few hours later into the day when he came back out again. This time he was showered and was now heading back to the barn to grab some fencing. After he grabbed what he needed to repair the fence, he got to work.  
He cut away the broken part of the barbed wire but wasn’t as careful as he should have been. A loose few barbs dragged across his skin on his arm leading up to his shoulder. He winced. Cade wasn’t expecting it so he never braced for it. Nope, the fence could wait for another time.

He grabbed what he could with his good arm and hauled it over to the house. Then, just dropping said items down and got into the house to wash his now stinging long stretching wound along his other arm. Calmly walking to the bathroom, he opened the cabinet, grabbing some hydrogen peroxide and poured rather liberally from the bottle down his arm.

The blood that was once dried with the air was now being eaten away by the liquid, gross redish-pink bubbles formed around the areas of blood. A light tingle as the bubbles faded. Cade washed off the remains and grabbed some cream to put on his wound, and he returned outside.

When he made his way back out, from the porch he noticed that Crosshairs was back from his town drive. And now he was just maintaining calm’ conversation between the other two mecha. What he was saying was just out of earshot of Cade, but he could almost make out a few faint syllables. And now, Cade finished the fence and went back to the barn when he was done. Attempting to tinker with other things all the while wondering, “where is _he_ out there?”  
 _Where are you Optimus?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How Is this?! Hi!  
> What do you think Tessa got in trouble for? And why am I avoiding it? (Look at beginning notes.)


	3. Chapter 3

Optimus had been gone for years, and had seen many different planetoids in his travels. And to his dismay, once friends dying at his hands. One thing is for certain, he’d changed mentally and physically. He learned over time that words would not ever be able to win wars, if the death of his home was any consolation. He hated that fact but Optimus bared it by arming himself with a large array of weapons. And the few friends that were still functional after all this time, especially after the loss of Ratchet to the humans. He barely held himself together emotionally after finding out that he was murdered by them for his metal… He really still hated Joshua Joyce for what he did, albeit not himself physically, his company still had a hand in having his longtime friend killed.  
Now, he was close to just giving up on the search for the creators – his creators – and just destroy the Seed. Optimus couldn’t help but pace back and forth on the ship he was on. An old friend and thought to be long-dead Amica bond, Nightblade, caught a glimpse of him flying nearly aimlessly through the stars. Thus taking it upon herself to get him inside the ship, though through less than appropriate methods… That mess can be skipped for later explanation.

Nightblade, stood in the doorway of his HAB suite that she had set up for him, just watching him lose his cool in what he thought to be a private entity. But after a good amount of time, Optimus actually noticed the femme just standing there.  
His face plates stayed lax, but his optics showed a tired and irritated glow. “Did you care to knock?” Optimus’ voice sounded dry, hoarse really. It didn’t help that he was still thinking too many things at the moment to allow his vocalizer to sync up with his processor. The femme, Nightblade, only shrugged. “Woulda. But you left the door open,” she sighed, “But you looked busy with yourself so I waited.” Optimus nodded and kept back at his past pace back and forth around the room. “What has gotten you so bothered? I don’t think I have ever seen you like this.”

His pedes came to a stop, hands going to rest on the back of his neck. “I – I don’t know how to explain.” His digits massaged the cabling in his neck to try to ease the tension. “Why not try from the beginning? Sit.” Optimus didn’t notice that he was being ushered towards the berth, the two sat down. Optimus tried to collect his thoughts, this was a first in a long time that he wasn’t able to think straight. But, now that he did think about it, the last time was when Cade was on that ship… Telling him to look at all the junk and to see the treasure… to have faith in themselves, in who they are. After a few klicks, Nightblade was still sitting there, still waiting. There was no way she was going to leave him alone until he said something; especially if he was bothered so badly as to pace around the room enough to make his joints squeak.

After a bit more time, he snerked out a sound of defeat and leaned back on his hands. “You really want me to start from the beginning?” Her hand landed lightly on his knee joint, pulling away after a quick pat. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” He nodded, appreciative of the fact she wasn’t pushing him for anything. It’s nice to have someone who will listen vice someone needed to be listened to. Optimus sighed and leaned forward, now resting his elbows on his knee joints.

Instead of starting with what really was bothering him, a question popped from his vocalizers before he had coherent thought of it. “Have you heard of Earth?” The strong voice faltered, it sounded hurt and kind of lost from the mech everyone knew as their leader. The femme nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been there, that’s where I got my jams. Most of them.”

“Well,” he sighed out, optics narrowed on the hard steel floor in his HAB suite. “Before you found me that’s where I came from.” She stayed silent, but he could feel her optics. They were almost urging him to continue, wordlessly. “I left friends behind, old and new ones. I left them without a leader; I abandoned them, and the war’s still not over. By this rate, it never will be over until we are all deactivated. I’ve been foolish, looking for our creators -- it’s a waste of time and energy. Am I even doing any of this right? To add to the fact, I left friends, I let Jazz, Ironhide, and Ratchet all get deactivated because of my ignorance. I could have saved them. I couldn’t even save Sentinel…” his vocalizer cracked. 

Sentinel was their leader before him, before he took the name Optimus Prime, before the young Orion Pax had any thought of being leader to anyone. After a moment of longer of silence. “You were right, he was corrupt. He sided with Megatron… and in the end, I-“ choking static took hold, he leaned down further, trying to hide his face with his hands and knees.

Nightblade started to rub the Prime’s back, thumbing sensitive seams. It used to always calm him down when he was younger and not burdened with holding in his emotions or the burden of being leader.

“It’s okay. You did what you had to. You can’t blame yourself.” His venting hitched. How could he not blame himself? He was their leader and he failed them! He of any mecha should have been able to do the basic thing of keep his soldiers alive. But no, he hadn’t even managed that. “How come you’re so sure?” his voice sounded broken, “Why can’t I blame myself? I’m their leader – was, was their leader. They’re dead now and I didn’t do what I had to! I fragging let them die!” His voice became a roar. Why wouldn’t he blame himself? Bad things will always happen, even if we try to prevent it all from ever occurring, but that line of logic had been corrupted.

Nightblade winced and pulled back from him, but she quickly collected herself. “The hardest part of being a leader is being able to accept the misfortune that comes with it.” His frame jolted upright, optics burning into her, it didn’t stop her. “You can’t blame yourself. I won’t allow it. You did the same for me, way back when. Don’t you remember?” Her voice in volume lowered in such a way that made him lean in to be able to hear what she was saying. “The same hatred, the same guilt rocked me. It ruled me,” her own voice lowered to a whisper, Optimus barely leaning forward to hear. “But you were there for me.”

“And then you were _murdered_.” Nightblade scoffed at the reply, his optics looked at her questioningly. “That is not the point, Orion. You were there for me when I was a broken mecha. I want to be there for you, as long as you let me,” her voice grew a bit, servo coming to land again on his knee joint, giving the knee a reassuring pat. He sighed and leaned back again, with his weight resting on his hands. “I don’t want to burden you with any of this. With my pointless ramblings.”

The old femme smiled. “Don’t think of it as you burdening me, because you’re not, nor will you ever be. But think of it as me doing this because I want you to be okay.” Her light purple optics glistened at the Prime. Some of his own grown guilt drifted off but some still lingered on what it felt like was his frame, dragging him down and holding him stationary. At first his voice failed him, after a moment of still allowing the words seep through the cracks of his armor, he tried again. “Thank you, Nightblade,” he sighed, but for the first time in a long time… or since before the last time he saw Cade, he smiled a small smile. She returned it and patted his knee once again as she pushed herself up. “Come outta here when you’re ready. Dinner will be served as we reach the next system.” She started to wheel herself away slowly.

“Dinner?” Stopping, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what dinner is.” Optimus sighed again. “I guess I’m just not used to the idea of fueling.” Shoulders shrugging, he leaned straight up and proper. Nightblade turned and tilted her head with a quizzical look. “Well, mister, you’re might want to get used to the idea on my ship.”

“Perhaps so.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cade waited outside on his porch on the still pretty new house. Joshua certainly was serious about helping out after his first home was destroyed because of Attinger and his goons, to which, he never would have to deal with ever again. That’s what he hoped anyway. There was always a chance that someone from the government would try and send off the rest of the Autobots that stayed. But that couldn’t happen… could it? They certainly tried before, back when Sentinel turned into a pseudo-Autobot. A Prime that betrayed another, in hopes of ending a war that would never be won – nor finished – so simply. They are not going anywhere without a fight.

But they had a leader with them then, one that stood tall and made meer mortal men waver in his wake. And now – as far as any of the other Autobots or human allies know – he is still going through space. In an endless search for his – their creators.  
The sun was still high in the sky, and Cade’s drive to create something was ebbing and flowing recently. Sadly enough for the inventor, he really was losing his inspiration and motivation for the art of creation. His once haven, his kingdom, his sacred place of creation was still gone to him. At least one thing stayed with him in a sense: Tessa – least she was going to be coming back soon.

It’s be a long and grueling few weeks. The thoughts that Tessa’s coming back for a time was nice to think about. Hell, even being teased about having to deal with the rest of the ‘bots on property, even sounded nice to Cade. But, his thoughts always did travel back to that one bot, that one mech.

Even though he still tried to hide it, from the other mecha on property and from Tessa, he still missed Optimus over all this time. He wasn’t the only one to miss the giant mecha either, Bumblebee missed his adoptive creator, too. But those two stayed quiet about it – being alone and by themselves or together with friends.

It seemed like the other mecha on property didn’t miss the mech as much as the two. They just went on as if he had never come back from, well, the dead. Considering that him surviving the shrapnel going through his spark’s chamber would usually be fatal and if that mecha did survive there would serious complications… and could still be seriously fatal. But neither happened to Optimus because of Cade’s ingenuity and vigor.

What next is up for Cade? All he has are the memories of saving a giant alien robot – no, a friend who saved his family. How could he not be thankful to him? And perhaps he even felt a kind of love for him, but he’s never going to be able to tell him about any of it. Cade doesn’t even know what he would do if he saw him again.

But he can’t think about that right now, he should be trying to clean up the house, especially the kitchen. He hadn’t done any kind of cleaning for at least since Tess went to college… so maybe months? Either way, he’d need to do some major dusting and vacuuming to get rid of the dust and decay that littered the entire house. At least now he didn’t need to steal power from the pole like he did before… something Tessa was not proud of her dad for doing in the first place.

After a little while he had done a good chunk of the cleaning – which pretty much only involved vacuuming the living room and washing the dishes. None of the laundry that had accumulated had been touched. He’d get to that later he thought. Until he forgot and went on to do something else. It wouldn’t be that bad.

Cade had come back outside and sat in the swing that hung low from a tree’s branch. But his quiet lolling ride was interrupted, Crosshairs came over in vehicle mode with Drift coming behind him. (Hound didn’t leave the property often, it was a good thing too, he would stick out like a sore thumb. He’s big, but bigger than Texas-style big, you know?) The two transformed into their bipedal modes and strolled up to the sitting Cade.

“Cade, we got news for ya.” Crosshairs leaned to one side, his hand, Cade noticed, was resting on his gun that was holstered to his hip. He slid off the swing and looked up at the two. “Yeah?” He said as he shielded his eyes from the sun, it was midday so the sun was still high in the sky. “Ah yes, Cade, I received a message from Bumblebee that he and Tessa will be coming here sooner than he had anticipated.”

“Last time you said he didn’t specify,” Cade pushed. “He had not. But now he knows that he will coming next week.” Cade’s arms were crossed across his torso. “At least I got some of the house done,” He grumbled.

“Indeed. I have been told humans can be… messy,” Drift sighed, pulling out one of his swords and began to check it over. He often did this when he was bored. “By who?”

“Bumblebee,” Drift said matter-of-factly, “He has often said that she ingests certain things late at night she makes terrible sounds and is irritable the morning after.” Cade looked at the mecha and only stared for a moment as he thought. Had she been drinking? It sounds like it. He’s had to have a talk to about drinking not too long ago but that’s because he found out on accident. Meaning she’d been hiding whiskey and rum bottles in her suitcase before she left. Cade wanted to leave a little farewell present in her case but found the poorly hidden bottles (they were not trying to be hidden at all).

“I see,” he unintentionally growled out his disapproval at his daughter’s possible actions. However, he still wanted and wished he could believe that she wouldn’t do it again, but he wasn’t sure. “And you say it’ll be a few days?” He’d have time to get an ever stronger argument. He told her no drinking! At any point in time, certainly not while in college.

Drift looked amused, but Crosshairs beat him to the punch line. “We never said when.” Cade groaned and shook his head. “Could you tell me then?” Crosshairs looked around a moment and then started to fondle his gun that was holstered to his hip. “Said something about Tuesday or Wednesday. Next week.”

Great, he had thought, four days or so ‘til she gets here. That’s enough time to clean up – or not – and have a scathing, scolding, argument for Tessa. “Alright. Well, do what you guys do. I have to do a few things inside.” He had made a way to turn around and started to walk off back to the house.

After Cade was inside the house and out of earshot, Drift sighed and walked away towards the field. “I fucked up.” Crosshair followed and came up beside him. “Bein’ profane ain’t like you.” He put his gun back on its holster, “I don’t get what’s up with you.” Drift came to a stop, not forced but his body language spoke of something that Crosshairs hadn’t seen since the time that he had just joined the Autobots: embarrassment.

Drift sighed, “I didn’t tell him why she’s coming back.” The look of shameful-hurt showed on his features all the while plain bewilderment decorated the other. “Cut the story short, Drift,” Crosshairs cooled his words but there was still and unintentional sting that laced them. Drift, stabbed the sword he held in the ground and just sat down, slumped over. He didn’t respond. “Drift?”

“Don’t tell me she’s carrying from that Shane character.” Drift gulped. “You’re slagging me, right?” His fan clicked, usually such control over his body. “N-no. That’s not it.”

“Than what is it?” Crosshairs had finally sat down beside him. Still he waited for an answer. “Can’t you be straight with me?” He leaned forward on his bent knee, looking at the swordsmech. “She’s going to be expelled for doing things on campus.”

The look of bewilderment arose again on the green mech’s face. “What kind of things?” Drift didn’t answer. “She’s not your kid, why you actin’ all scared?” He could tell that Drift was tense, stressed, and didn’t really want to say what was up-tight and bothered. The two sat quietly.

Crosshairs’ patience had certainly grown while being on the property with Cade and Hound and Drift. And it was a damn good thing too, Drift had started to have nightmares. Again. He’d been having them for a while after he joined the Autobot ranks all those millions ago. They were all about the same thing: the agonized screams, the cries of sparklings torn from their carriers, the burning, crumbling sound of metal plates being melted from the very frame of another mecha. And other things, other mistakes he had made had been put the extreme, nearly frying his processors every time they occur.

But right now, it would seem that the two would only fester in their silence. Drift didn’t want to tell Crosshairs, and he wasn’t going to. Not like this, he had thought. He wasn’t really sure how to take the news he got from Bumblebee only minutes’ prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! How's going?


	5. Chapter 5

The trek through to the other system was rather quiet, but this was space. The one place where no one can or will ever be able to hear you scream. Oh the joys of being in space! At least now Optimus wasn’t alone in the midst of its emptiness, but on a ship. It felt relieving to not have to have his thrusters going on high the entire time, not sure of where he was or where he was even supposed to go.

He had stayed in his HAB suite for what a normal mecha would account as a cycle. Optimus hadn’t really wished to leave but even he needed to say thank you to Nightblade for dragging him onto her ship. Slowly, he rose from the berth and planted his pedes on the ground. The steely ground was cool underneath him, also refreshing. Each step was quiet, especially for a mecha his size. He tapped the doors controls that were a square key pad that held a few dozen true Cybertronian glyphs.

The reason that they are considered ‘true’ glyphs is because they are the old ones. The older the glyph style, the truer it is to the original creation of the earlier Cybertronians. This ship, is by definition, ancient. But it isn’t quite as old – ancient – as Nightblade or himself.

The door didn’t have any kind of lock to keep him in, so leaving the HAB suite was simple and easy. But once he took a step outside the door, he noticed the empty and sparsely lit hallway. It was a bit unsettling since his HAB that he’s been in has been light up like a Christmas tree; it was quick change of scene. Optimus just pushed through. And though it was darker than he had been used to, it was certainly brighter than being in the reaches of space.

It was an emptiness that he would wish upon no living soul. Mecha or not, he would never do it.

As he walked down, it started to become more bright. But the once straight path diverged into three more. One straight ahead of him, and one on each side. More light was coming from the right, so he followed it. Then he began to hear voices, muffled by the distance? He wasn’t so sure, but continued anyway. They became louder.

“Stop it! That’s creating!” A femme’s voice sounded more clear than before. He made it closer to the entrance of the whatever room this was, he quickly figured it out when he got there. A training area. He should have known Nightblade would have a place specific to train, since she and her mate were here with their creations – not that Optimus knew about the creations being there. He didn’t see them when he got pulled onto the ship. He had seen Skyblaze and Nightblade and that was basically it. The voice didn’t sound like either of the two old femme’s that he knew.

“It’s not creatin’ if I’m winning!” He had now seen the two that were – as it would seem – sparring. A dark blue femme held a staff in one servo and would swing and catch it with the other. The other, a light red, kind of pink but not really, held a blunt sword. “That’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re cheating!” The dark blue femme growled, blocking an attack from the other pink-ish femme.

“You’re just mad ‘cause I’m winnin,.” That same pink-ish femme mewled in retort. They continued their disagreement with slashing and blocking each other’s attacks.   
Optimus, still standing at the entrance to this arena, watching. The other side, there was what looked to be a control panel that was black – probably off then.

“Ease off it you two.” He had recognized that voice. “Your sire got your dinner made. C’mon. Put that down Silentstorm,” with a sound of almost disappointment came from the femme, who he knew as Skyblaze. The pink-ish femme who looked disappointed and hung the blade that she wielded on the wall. The hooks disappeared behind another layer of metal, hiding the weapon. “You know you’re not supposed to get out the swords without Night here.” Silentstorm grumbled, and moved passed her carrier. The dark blue femme placed down the staff that she was using as her weapon, and made her way out too.

Skyblaze noticed Optimus, that he knew. “I see you’ve come out, come.” He came up to her, meeting Skyblaze half way. She sighed, “Younglings, they won’t listen, will they?” The flier said, now walking beside Optimus, he gave her a sidelong glance. “I suppose so.” The two stayed quiet a moment. It was broken by Optimus. “How – how have you been, Skyblaze?” Light blue optics of the red-headed flier looked at him with a light smile. “I have been getting better, finding Night and finding you just made it all the better.” Her light blue optics glistened. Optimus, cocked his head to the side a bit. “Finding Night? What do you mean by that?” Sky stopped mid stride, as did he.

A moment and a rattled vent later, she continued to walk. “I… it’s too soon for me to be explaining.” He continued beside her. “My apologies. I did not intend-” Sky cut him off, “It is alright. It is just too fresh on my mind to speak calmly of it just yet.” Then a crash, followed by a one – loud – profane curse. Their pace became hurried, finding another femme – blue and gold – hunched down picking up fragments of something, Nightblade leaned down and wiped as the ground, a puddle of orange and purple substance.

“What happened, Night? Stormchaser?” The mecha Optimus knew as Night, leaned back up to a straight posture and held the cloth that was colored a strange orange and purple. The other, the blue and gold femme, must be Stormchaser. Night scoffed at what she held. “A miscalculation.” Stormchaser rolled her optics as she rose, placing the remnants of the once carrying device for – he supposed – was the orange and purple liquid. “Yes, a miscalculation, indeed.”

“Ay, you ran into me.” Nightblade then gestured to the substance that she then blotted off of her chassis. The other femme now held a cloth, wiping at her digits individually. Skyblaze looked at Optimus, but didn’t say anything, only shaking her head. “Storm, take Optimus to the dining area, please. I have to speak to your sire.” She nodded, gesturing for Optimus to follow her.

He did, but nodding first at Sky and Night. As the two traveled down another long hallway, it was better lit than the last few that he had passed but it still wasn’t very bright. It’s like they were trying to conserve energy – which is smart. They were of course on a spaceship, Primus’ knows where in the universe. It was quiet until Stormchaser cleared her intakes.

“So, you’re Optimus Prime.” He nodded. “I have never met a Prime, certainly none with your modesty.” Optimus, was a bit confused, and gave a sidelong look. There was a quiet moment. “My sire has spoken highly of you. When you came here-“

“I was pulled onto the ship,” He said with a snerk, a sound of amusement. Stormchaser gave a small smile, one also of amusement. “Well, when you were pulled on, sire couldn’t stop talking about you.”

“Why is that?” He tilted his head towards the blue and gold femme. Another round of silence came about, her optics strayed to the walls. She sucked in a breath, “She thought you were dead.” His own vents hitched, his own friend thought he was dead. He had thought she was dead too, but for completely different reasons.

Optimus had only heard that she was ‘murdered’ by Megatron that one unfortunate day. Not long before he himself had to become Prime, and lead the opposing party of the rebellion. There was that grief and then unending burden and turmoil of leadership, always having a sense of doubt but always having to keep a cool exterior. Hiding his emotions, because that was all he could do to stay… strong. Instead of allowing a show of dismay be viewed by his soldiers.

The two entered what looked to be the dining area. “Here we are. Go ahead and sit down where you’d like.” He did so, nodding to her first. Optimus noticed that the pink-ish femme – Silentstorm was already seated. Though color wise they were different, their frames were similar to each other. She looked up from the data pad that she was looking at. “Hey.”

“Hello,” He greeted, sitting down opposite of the femme. It was an awkward silence, kind of for the three. But he didn’t really feel like speaking, at most, he would respond if he was spoken to; however, his want for it is minimal.

The pink femme, Silentstorm, cleared her vocalizers, which caught his attention. “So, why were you flying around space? All alone like that.” Yes, Silentstorm had always been good to pick a subject that should wait for later but ultimately insists on making her curiosities known. Again for the time he’s been out of his HAB suite, his venting hitched. Recollecting himself, he straightened in the seat. “I was on a mission. One that I failed to accomplish.”

Her blue optics unwavering, still oblivious that she was beginning to cross the line. But he wasn’t going to stop her, his will to speak had been dwindling. At least Stormchaser had taken notice (I mean who couldn’t notice that he had been pulling into himself?) “Hey sis, why don’t you go and help carrier and sire with bringing over the fuel, yeah?”

She got up with a smile and scurried off, back to the kitchen. Stormchaser sighed and glanced at Optimus who sighed with his own relief. “My apologies. Silentstorm does not mean to dig into things she shouldn’t. But, she always had trouble with keeping her mouth shut.” He nodded, an appreciated gleam in his dim, blue optics.

Stormchaser took this time of silence and straightened up the table with ‘fightin’ utensils’ as Nightblade has called them time, and time again. It was only a few klicks later, the other mecha filed into the dining area. One of the mecha he didn’t notice was there (but it’s not like he would have known anyway.) A recognizable mecha locked optics with him. Could it really be?

“Elita?” A silver femme with pink detailing stared at him. Not only he was surprised to see someone else he wasn’t expecting. She blinked a few times, there was a look in her optics he was unsure on how to name. But then she smiled with her optics at him. “Good to see you Commander.” She tipped her head before placing down little plain napkins by everyone’s utensils. Another femme (this ship is too full of femmes, thought the author.) appeared and sat down next to Elita. Light blue markings, but mostly white frame… and built like Nightblade. Optimus knew this mecha, another one of the femme Autobot army, their weapons’ specialist.

“Hello Chromia.” Her bright blue optics glowed a certain fondness towards her Prime. He almost shuddered at the thought. It was enough to be leader, he never wanted to be called their Prime. It made him feel like everyone else was putting him on a pedestal that he never wanted to be on top of. Now of all, being one of those moments.

She looked him in the optics and bowed her head and flung a servo over her spark chamber, a symbol of alliance and trust amongst Cybertronians. Even now, it still meant something to him and to her. Probably, it also meant something to everyone else on the ship as well.

A symbol of solidarity in a time of chaos.

Everyone else sat down as four different dishes set down along with them. A green, a dark blue – uncharacteristic for Energon –, something golden-orange, and a small dish that had something that was only white.

Without his notice, a hand on his own, on both sides, held him. “Moondancer, your turn.” Optimus’ head tilted towards the femme that sat next to Silentstorm across the table, she bowed her head. “To Primus we plea, we pray for the chaos to ease. We pray for one’s lost, those losing, and for those found.” He quickly realized that this is a prayer, embarrassed, he bowed his head. She continued on, head still bowed, “We pray for the fallen, those who have fallen far from grace, and who have found that they are at terms – allow them a peace in their sparks.” There was a pause, “And we ask your appeal. Till the day we join the Well, our benevolent Primus.”

 

It was almost enticing and rather soothing to hear a pray before a meal. It reminded him of simpler times. And some of those times, he remembered, were also in the presence of Nightblade’s family. Oh, how he wished this could last, but one thing that he did want to forget kept on coming back into his processor: the war.

And, Nightblade knew this, though she hasn’t been around the war as closely as he has; her daughters have. Her mate knew Elita joined the Cybertronian Elite guard, but she told her carrier herself after finding that she was only brutally captured by the early Decepticon forces. And how they changed her! She had a different frame now because of it.

“Well done, Moony. You brought your sire to tears!” Optimus had now looked over, all be damned, she had teared up. She sniffed. “Oh these? These are not tears. It’s liquid pride!” Skyblaze laughed. “You can shed ‘liquid pride’ later, eat while it is still warm.” Placing down a dish, another placed down and passed around until everyone had a dish in front of them.

He looked down at the plate he had, it was decorated with all of the four colored foods that were still resting in the middle of the table. Slowly he picked up a utensil and ate what was there. This is like Déjà vu. At least this – for the moment – will take his mind off of the many things that plague it.


	6. Chapter 6

Tessa would be coming home soon. Hopefully. It was Wednesday and neither of the three have made any contact with Cade or the other mecha that still were on the property. It was eerily quiet, especially since Hound and Drift had not been sparring again for a few weeks. Not the best idea, since they were still in the midst of a war. You must keep not only your mind sharp, but also your fighting style. It’s all muscle memory.

Crosshairs had been staying on property more often as well. It was almost a shock for Cade when he left the barn – because he hadn’t really been sleeping in the house since Tessa left for university – and found Crosshairs just leaning against a tree talking quietly with Drift. It was almost odd for the him to see such things now. Even storms have to calm down some time, sometimes, in stranger ways than others.

But all that – unique – paraphernalia aside, Cade was ready to see his daughter and Bumblebee… And Lucky charms. He still wasn’t too keen on allowing Tessa to have him as a boyfriend, this was still a non-dating household. But, It’s not like she would listen to him anyway, it’s been about seven and a half years since the two have been together. That didn’t mean he had to like it. 

And now and then, Cade would think of that day when he realized – or rather found out – that they were dating was the day that Lucas had called for the money. The money they would get for Optimus. How that would ever be a good idea to call the government, no one could ever know really. How often could the government actually be trusted to do what they promised? The answer: hardly ever.

Even though Cade never made the call himself, he still felt guilty that his family – though small – was put in danger. He hasn’t trusted anyone outside of his family, close family, for years. The last person? That one Cybertronian.

Where is he now? Somewhere passed far across this galaxy? Another planet with other aliens like himself? Cade was drawn back and forth from between missing him, to being disdainful towards his absence. He had to remind himself often that Optimus was leader of the Autobots, from a whole other world. Optimus had bigger and more pressing things to worry about than just one, little human. It’s not like the old lug would ever reciprocate any kind of emotional feelings towards Cade… could he? Even though Cade wanted to entertain the idea of that possibility, he knew wasn’t a good idea. It would only hurt him more.

Avoiding now anything that may have included Optimus was what he did now some days. It was kind of okay knowing that the Autobots there didn’t really speak of Optimus unless they were speaking of past missions and other parts of the war effort. He’d try to listen in, but then other memories from that one day came flooding back to him – then he’d go and hide in the barn.

It hurt him too much to think.

Still, some part of him was confused as to why he would have those kinds of emotions come to him just by mentioning the big mech. One side of his brain said it was the traumatic aspect of the situation back then. And the other side of him yelled, screamed, and chanted that he missed him more than he wanted to admit… and that Optimus was a bigger chunk of his life that he was missing –

– like his wife and his daughter. Cade didn’t want to have to say goodbye to either. But, even now, he knew that one day that Tessa would get married… maybe not even to Shane but one day, she’ll be gone and may not come back. Why would she want to come back to a broken man’s home? She’d probably deny him as her father, wouldn’t she?

“Cade, you got that look in your eye,” a dry, crackly voice rumbled from Cade’s side. He looked at the large gray mecha with a kind of delirious confusion. He stepped as lightly – as a mecha his size – could. “What look?” Cade tried to sound like he was fine. Hound look at him with a tilted head. “The look,” he’d said, like the vagueness of the responses would allow Cade to understand. “Somethin’s hurtin’ ya,” He added. Cade sighed out. Should he say that he was missing Optimus or just play it off?

“I’m just missin’ Tess. Nothing drastic.” He decided that ‘playing it off’ would be the better of the two solutions. Hound noticed something in the human and let it slide for a moment before returning to the original question. “Ya jus’ seem like something more’s bothering you.” Hound leaned down and ultimately sat down with a loud thump, his frame moving up and down from the flash of movement. Cade leaned his head back, lolling it back and forth. Hound never left.

Cade started to find that he wasn’t going to leave this alone until something came out of him. At that thought he frowned. “I – I guess it’s not that simple then,” his breath slowed, his eyes glazed over and dull. He felt ultimately really confused about the whole situation that was plaguing his mind. “I just need some time to think a few things through. Believe me, I’m… okay.”

Hound turned his head, his beard scraped against the top part of his chassis. His optics had a slight green tinge to them, like he’d had something in his systems that perhaps he shouldn’t have. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had some crude oil, but it was far from being the best thing for their Cybertronian hardware and tanks.

There was a carried silence for a few minutes. Not awkward, not for Hound in the least, for Cade, it was troubling. It almost made him want to just say what was crawling through his brain and making him twitchy. “Cade,” his voice cut through the silence, enough to pull Cade only mostly from his timorous thoughts. “Take it easy. Don’t keep it all inside.” Cade stayed quiet.  
“We – even Crosshairs – want you to be okay, Cade,” Hound had said his name again, hoping to emphasizing that he was being serious. But what he said took him aback. He had to admit that he was flattered, but he hated that he had to be told that they wanted him to be okay. He was better than this, he thought. His light brown eyes made contact with the slightly green optics of the former wrecker. Cade had to force himself to smile. “Okay. Alright. Thanks Hound. But really, I’m just missing Tess.” The optics narrowed but Hound resigned, but digressed. Then he threw himself to the ground all the way, his gut jiggling with his sudden movement. 

Cade stayed in the chair, and his head leaned back again.

“What’s the plan?” Hound asked from laying horizontally beside the porch. “What’s the plan for what?”

“When you’re stuck, what are you going to do?” Again, Cade was taken aback by Hound. Why was Hound being so… relaxed and asking if he was alright? He’s fine! Or that was what Cade sorely wanted to be able to believe, that he wasn’t lying to one of his Autobot friends.

His tongue clicked with roof of his mouth and actually bit the tip when he closed his jaw. He sighed, “I don’t know.” He knew that he should talk, but at the same near painful moment, he never wanted to talk about it. Hound’s optics looked at him and he tilted his head to the side. “Well, if you ever wantta, you can talk to us. We do listen pretty well.”

“Thanks Hound,” his voice became quiet, and then he pushed himself up. “I’m gonna go and check a few things inside the house.” No other words were – politely – shared between the two. Cade disappeared into the house, and Hound was not too pleased that Cade was holding it all in. That big bot knew that Cade was lying, that he wasn’t really fine. But, Hound has his own thought on the matter… that sometimes when you need help, you skip it in hopes that it will go away by itself. He just hopes that Cade will be smart enough to ask for, even if begrudging.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *continues to bang head on table* help my weary soul... I'm tired and nothing is making sense.
> 
> Btw jus a little warning here.  
> absolutely nothing is beta'ed.
> 
> I hope this is enjoyable!

It was again quiet and in an almost uneasy way peaceful. Everyone had decided to go do their own thing, but Optimus kind of just did not know what to do with himself. What would you do on a giant ship, with a friend that you thought was dead, with her mate who you also thought was dead and creations? He wasn’t sure. So he just stood and paced the halls, the ones that were closer to the kitchen. They had more lights on than the corridors that lead from the HAB suites.

But out of the silence, there was a crashing sound. It wasn’t like the crashing noise that happened before in the kitchen. It sounded oddly familiar. He followed it. As Optimus followed, it’s volume gradually increased. What he was hearing then left the sound of crashing to something that sounded like yell – screaming. His steps were a little quicker, the sounds changed again. It was leading him towards the... kitchen?

Optimus stepped towards the door, it sliding into the wall and out of the way, and what was revealed surprised him. But then again it really shouldn’t have, this was Nightblade. She’s odd… along with her tastes of _music_. As he stood there she was just doing her thing, going along with the song and cleaning the kitchen – as it would seem. Hell, it didn’t look like she noticed him standing there.

And then the song came to what sounded almost abrupt stop. It clicked over to a much slower song, but it had a similar voice to the one he followed. Its volume was much lower and not so loud that it sounded like a scream or screechy.

“Hello Optimus.” She didn’t turn to face him but she did put something else back where it belonged in a privacy cabinet. His frame relaxed, he hadn’t even noticed that he was tense. Night turned around with a slow ease, head bowed slightly as if she’d been waiting for him to arrive. In a not-so odd way, she had been, but her methods of bringing him to her were far from conventional.

His solemn reply was a curt nod. She gave him a sad look but pushed it away. “So what brings you to my little corner of crazy?” Night asked with a crooked smile, a tilt to her head. His optics dimmed and glanced around the room. “I heard some noise, and I was coming to investigate. It did not sound well.”

Night then gave him a look of _what the frag are you talking about?_ , but that’s because she calls that noise music. Most everyone on the ship has come to terms with this odd fact of hers. She likes Terran music. She nodded. “Oh, well, that’s my musical taste. Sorry if it sounded out of place.” The song that was playing stopped, another one started up. Light and with the strum of a guitar as it sounded, it was a calm tempoed beat. What is this?

His dimmed blue optics left hers and scanned the room. “It’s alright. Out of habit.” She nodded again. “What is this?” The song sped up just a bit. Her optics narrowed, another _what the frag_ look on her face. But then realization hit her. “What – the song? Elective Amnesia.”

There was silence in the room – aside from the music that was playing. Nightblade groaned and threw her arms behind her head. “Why are we so awkward now? Help!” She laughed with her hands resting on the back of her head. One of the slightest smiles on Optimus’ face showed itself. “Oh, I can’t. I don’t know you.” His arms then crossed his chassis. She gasped, her hands were balled into fists above her spark chamber. “You’ve wounded me!” Then, dramatically she fell to her knees. And then, just as quickly as she had ‘fallen’, she recollected her composure. The two, both, laughed lightly.

A contented sigh, exchanged for the two. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly, a soft-sad smile on his lips. “Me too. It has been far too long since either of us have done something so simple.” She glanced at something behind him, he gaze to her friend. “Maybe this can continue when we-“

A blaring sound, overpowering the music made Optimus almost flinch. A pillar popped from the floor, beeping. She rolled over and pushed one thing that popped also from the surface. “Screwloose. About damn time. I’ve been waiting for your report.” Optimus turned around and saw a gold and dull looking mecha on a screen. Optics also a dulled blue, a look of tiredness in his features.

“You could say I’ve been busy. Our area of manufacturing blew up, the sand here mess with the systems.” It looked like his optics became glazed over. Optimus wasn’t sure whether or not he was seen by this mecha. “I see. I expect something on that by the time I’m there, which will be…” She looked down at her wrist, a small panel slips back and closed again just as quickly. “2 deca-cycles.” Her optics were cold, but not out of distaste, she rather liked this mecha. “It will be done.”

“Good. Now, I gotta make sure of one thing else: did you manage to get that device up and running?” There was a momentary silence, then a click and a graph of sorts came onto the screen. “Did, actually. Though… it did have some troubles at first… with explosions. But! I’ve tested it myself and it seems to be working just swell.” Her optics narrowed. “It’s an Energon Synthesizer, there shouldn’t be any kind of explosion. But… coming from Xandax… I can see how that could be. Thank you for this update. By the way, how is everyone doing in your sector?” She leaned on her side and her glare softened.

He visibly shrugged. “Solarblitz is being a fool, but that’s nothing out of the normal. Xandax, Vinyl, Jetlag, and Hot Rod are alright. But Hot Rod’s been getting on everyone’s nerves again. If anything, he’s probably the reason why we’re behind schedule for getting that Synthesizer done. Aside from that, all has been calm here. But… there has been a strange occurrence.” There was another moment of quiet, a pause.

Optimus just stood there quietly. What was she doing? Asking for reports? Energon Synthesizer builds? He continued just to stand and listen. “And? That would entail what, Screwloose?” He looked at Nightblade, wondering what was going on.

Screwloose looked away and then back the screen. He sighed and he visibly placed his hands on the console in front of him. “Let’s just say like this, Night, it’s _ALL_ Hot Rod.” 

She looked amused, “It can’t all be his doing. Oh, just put that on record. I gotta go. I have other things to attend to. I expect it to be a long one, covering every little detail, Screwy.”-Moving to end the transmission. “I have something else I have to ask you, Night.”

Her amused look turned to that of minor annoyment. “Yes? Please make it snappy will you? I have a few things here that require my immediate attention.” Her tone cool, but her optics showed the annoyance. “Have… Have you found any of the Primes? Anything of them at all?” That caught Optimus’ attention. A proud smirk crossed her lips. “A matter of fact we have. The last.”

The optics of the mecha named Screwloose became impossibly wide. “Optimus Prime?” She nodded. Now Optimus knew, he wasn’t see in the video feed. “Will he be landing with you when y’all get here?” Shrugging, she still stood close to the pillar with multiple still-flashing buttons. “He may, that is his decision. I will not speak for him. Unless need be.” He nodded. A small grin on his lips, optics a brighter glow than before. “I will forever admire and be confused by your methods, Night. But, could you maybe do me a solid? Tell him I said ‘hi’. Or is that too informal? Would he even talk to me? Am I too much of a street mecha to be associated with? What if-“

“Screwy!” She had to stop him. If she hadn’t, he’d go on forever about what could go ‘wrong’. “He’s not like that. He’d like you, I think. Just chill your slag. See you in 2 deca-cycles.” A reassuring smile, “Dude, relax. Bye Screwy.” 

“Bye Night.” She ended the called, groaning out in exasperation.

“Well, that included a few things I was ABOUT to tell you. By the way, Screwy said ‘hi’.” He didn’t say a thing. “Uh… Optimus?”

“I just didn’t think that there were others, not anymore.” Her happy, calm features turned glum. She rolled over closer to the Prime, putting her arms around him. He hadn’t been hugged for a long time, since before the war. He did not pull away. “I thought so, too. But now, that’s what I’ve be doing – finding others and bringing them to this sector.” He returned the hug. “I’m really happy I found you.”

They stayed quiet, their sparks batted in constant pattern, always copying the other. It was calming to the two. As said before, Optimus hadn’t had a hug since before the war and Night – well, she only really hugged Skyblaze… and now, she was still not very touchy to anyone. Or huggy. Optimus was the only other exception.

Their quiet was once again broken by the same blaring siren that sounded before that call from Screwloose. “Sire! I need you in the engine room right now!” Moondancer called out over the intercom, they released each other from their hold. She sighed, “I’m heading your way!” She turned to Optimus. “I’ll meet up with you after this is dealt with.” Then she skated off.

And that left Optimus alone in the kitchen. He didn’t want to stay here, doing nothing useful, so he left for his HAB. It would be weird to just stand there, in a kitchen, while everyone else was doing their own thing elsewhere. And the corridors were still dully lit as he got closer to his destination. The door did not wait before he got so close, it just opened.

As he entered, he saw his shield, his sword, exactly as it was before he left. The sword of the Knights of Cybertron… he solemnly realized that he is the _LAST_ Prime, the last Knight. What was that supposed to mean for him? To fight for the good in all? – to basically do as he has always tried to do his entire life? Or to just be the hero for everyone? Now he wasn’t so sure.

He sat down on the edge of the berth. Optimus hadn’t noticed that his fists were balled and tight. He felt lost and confused, and it was all because being Prime never came with a manual, nor did he have the option to learn more deeply from another Prime; he still wondered how this whole situation would be like if he talked more to his grandsire about how to lead. Alpha Trion was a former Prime himself and now, he’d never know anything more than what he learned from his own experience.

Optimus wanted to do something and feeling like this made his tanks hurt. It didn’t help that he had only just recently refueled, since being in space meant that he really didn’t have all the much option while in search for their creators. It made him feel almost sick. Useless. A hopeless leader that can’t even lead.

Nightblade seemed to be good with leadership, she was commander of the ship. How’d she manage it? She was doing better than he had done this entire time that he held Primacy, the very thought made him growl. And that’s what’s made his tanks turn. He retched, not even having enough time to stop himself. He fell from the berth onto his hands and knees, feeling his tank spasm within him. The acids burnt his intakes, it hurt. After flash, his tanks ceased to retch.

Maybe he shouldn’t have allowed himself to fuel so much, but then again, it was still not so normal for him to take in anything at all. He hadn’t been able to refuel let alone normal fuel, there were not any options for him really to fuel. But that is war, and it was a mission that wasn’t completed.

Before he could chide himself any worse than his tanks had already done to him, there was a knock on his HAB suite’s door. It didn’t open immediately. Then another knock. “Can I come in?” Such an old custom, one usually forgotten. There was a length of cold and grueling silence that followed. “Are you okay in there? I heard something odd.”

Optimus looked down at (or rather, looked up, because he was laying on the floor, basically in the piles of) slush and gunk from his tank’s retch and felt absolutely disgusting. Not only for laying in the purged material, but not even being able to calm himself down enough to not retch. “Optimus? I’m coming in.” No more requests but an action, and when she had opened the door, her optics shot wide.

He didn’t know (or think) she’d be able to lift him up. “Optimus, how many digits am I holding up?” She asked after she got him lying on his back, and making sure (hopefully) he wouldn’t roll off. He didn’t notice that he had offlined his optics, everything he was seeing was blurry. Optimus tried to speak but it hurt, it was dry and still held the tainted taste of bad Energon. He tried again, it was laced in static. Nightblade nodded and started to press and tap some places and poke and prod.

He felt completely wretched. Perfectly like slag that was fresh from the heap. Finally, she put something on his head, cool and felt nice. The cool feeling traveled down his chassis, where a lot of dried, purged material was, and it was wiped and scraped off. His systems were hot, and they oddly felt like they were getting hotter than usual. But then again, this was pretty embarrassing to have heaved on the floor and to collapse into it.

“Optimus, I’m sorry. Try to recharge,” her voice sounded so light, an apprehension, a sadness, like she caused this. She was just as bad when it comes to guilting herself as Optimus was, and quite frankly neither enjoyed their self-destructing thoughts. It wasn’t healthy for either of them but that never stopped either from feeling like they should have been able to do something more. It doesn’t even matter what it could be about, if either fail just a little bit, neither would be able to deal with themselves. Thoughts can be crueler than anyone; especially if the thoughts are your own. But, again, neither would accept help from the other until completely and totally necessary.

Optimus had to reset his vocalizer reset, moments prior, he sounded like a little squeak. “No, I’m the one who purged on the floor.” He tried to lean up, but she held him down. “And I’m the one who made you ill,” she whispered, a sad gleam in her optics. He groaned as he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the berth. “Try to get some recharge. I’m going get the scanner down here in a bit.” She’d already started to clear the floor of the purged substance. “That shouldn’t be necessary. I’ll be fine,” he grumbled out. An irritating twinge to his field, like a buzz almost, caused him to lose concentration.

“Not until I say so.” No more word exchanges were made. Only now, he realized all the alerts that were blaring off and pinging him for recharge. So he allowed himself – albeit hesitantly – to recharge.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired. It's kind of short but school's almost out.
> 
> Lil warning: ZERO BETA

“Sorry Yeager repair, we got caught in traffic,” Lucky Charms (because I really love to call Shane that,) said as he set down Tessa’s bags from Bumblebee’s trunk. She had a lot with her. Did she bring her entire dorm? Cade rolled his eyes and grabbed a set of bags. “If getting stuck in traffic sets you off two weeks then wow.” He huffed when he lifted another arm full of Tessa’s junk. “Did you forget anything? I think you may have forgot the Huston University library!”

She huffed and leaned on the hood of Bumblebee, looking at her dad as if he was being ridiculous. He was kind of. “There are only four textbooks in there, dad.” She then hoisted her purse over her shoulder. “Plus, I don’t need the library. I have what I need.”

“Tessa, school’s important. Just because you have a scholarship doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy sailing.” He tried to give her a look that said, ‘I’m being serious’ but he just missed the mark. “Dad. I know. I’m getting my work done and I have made good on all of my tests.” He looked at her with a pleading eye. “I’m serious. Are you taking any of this serious? It really doesn’t feel like you are.” She walked passed him, getting the door for him and Shane.

“Dad! I am doing what I’m doing! I’ve been doing just fine!” She let the door slam shut after the two made it in. “Be nice to the house,” Cade chided her while walking up the stairs, arms being strained with the ridiculous weight of her bags. He noticed that Shane was being uncharacteristically quiet but he made no comment. Honestly, Cade was annoyed that he wasn’t told that they were stuck in traffic. Who gets stuck in traffic for two weeks? It doesn’t happen.

He was not only starting to get on the verge of actual anger with his only daughter but she just got home. He could get really annoyed at her at day two of being at home. It would drive it into her head a bit better than just hammering her the first hours of being back, or at least that he thought about it.

Tess then opened her room’s door and Shane and Cade put down all of the luggage. Shane sighed and sat down on the bed. “We’ve got that done. Why don’t we do something?” Shane asked with an innocent gaze mostly directed at Tessa, but Cade did a natural step in between the batting eyelashes. “What you got in mind?” Cade looked at Tess, waiting for her to perhaps pipe in and add her idea for the rest of the day. But really, Cade wanted to spend some quality time with his daughter, without her (boy)friend. Even though the two have been dating for seven and something years, and neither are minors, Cade wasn’t too keen on the idea of his daughter leaving him for Lucky Charms over here. He wanted her to be happy, yes, and to be treated right. And if she wasn’t, he’d beat the living shit out of the motherfucker that decided otherwise. She was the only family he had left, by blood anyway.

“We could go outside. Just sit and relax.” Shane looked at Cade with a pleading look in his eyes, a devious smile. “Without smooching.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance dad.”

“Do we have a plan?”

“Of course! We do something without those weird assholes outside,” Tessa groaned, flicking her thumb behind her where the window was located.

“I’m _not_ an asshole. In fact, everything is strictly retaliatory.” Drift popped his gold and blue head close to the window. “Also, that’s hurtful.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “I thought robots didn’t have feelings.” Shane and Cade looked at her, there was shock in Shane’s eyes while there was only an annoyance that plagued his. “Now stop. That was uncalled for. You like Bumblebee.”

“No, I ride with Bumblebee. I don’t like to. If I had a choice I would have bought my own car and drove myself… not here.“ She crossed her arms over her chest, not even looking like she didn’t mean everything she had just said. This was starting to frustrate Cade, he knew she could get grumpy and say things that she didn’t really meant but right now… He was starting of thinking a few things that she wouldn’t like. “Well, if you feel that way.” He lifted a few of her bags and pushed them into her arms. “You can leave.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Tessa Avery Yeager, look me in the eye. Do I look like I’m not being serious? You too Shane. If you can’t respect them -- they’re guests here, you’re disrespecting me. If you can’t handle it, then find yourself a place, because I won’t have it.” His face was drawn in tight, Cade was hoping that after not seeing his daughter for a few months there wouldn’t be hostilities towards the bots or him. He was sadly wrong. Tessa looked like she was about to throw a fit, but instead, she dropped all her stuff at her feet. That left her purse on her shoulder. Her eyes looked like they had a fire behind them, and her cheeks. Before anything was allowed to continue, she walked out, slamming the door. Shane looked at Cade.

“I’m surprised you said it.”

“She needed to be shown that I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior. She knows better.”

“No. Not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?”

“Did she tell you why she’s here?” Cade looked at Shane, looking absolutely ready to kill. Only with words was he ready to kill.

“Spit it out. No, she never told me anything. Hell, I never got to talk to her, it was always through Drift.” Shane’s eyes closed. He would have thought that Drift or even Crosshairs would have told him what’s up. He was wrong to an extreme. Now, with her dad looking at him so intensely, he almost didn’t want to be the barer of bad news. But someone is going to have to break the news to him, it might as well just get over with and done.

“She’s been kicked off of campus-“

“Why?!” Cade practically roared at Shane, his eyes flinched. “-because…” Shane trailed off. Should he tell her dad? That could – potentially – ruin what he and Tessa have as father and daughter.

“She had stuff in her dorm that wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Stop alluding and going around what it is! Just tell me.” He leaned in, his dark brown eyes were boring into Shane’s hide. So he did what he thought could be best, and just told him. There was a silence for a moment, an eerie silence. Cade’s features were unreadable. Without an announcement, he walked out, never even saying what he was going to do next. That is when Shane knew he fucked up.

“Oh. I do not like this…” Drift rumbled, Shane forgot that he was standing outside the window. “Me either.” His head going down into his hands. “What have I done?” He said aloud but mostly towards himself. Drift stood quietly, looking at the human sympathetically. “If you did not tell him, he would not have a daughter.”

“But now she’s going to hate me for telling him _and_ , let’s not forget, he told me to protect her. A load of blooming shit I am at that.”

“Least you had the courage to tell him.”

“Because I don’t want to hurt her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW how'd y'all like this?


	9. Chapter 9

Another (startlingly) peaceful sol of travelling through the system. It was starting to get to Optimus again, being in space… He did like the vastness of space but, even on the ship with friends, he felt kind of loneliness that did not relent. It didn’t help him that he tried to stay in his HAB most of the time. The only times he seemed to leave were when Night or Sky or even Moondancer came in to either check on him (which was mostly Night’s thing), or to let him know that dinner was ready. He never really wanted to eat, it made him feel worse. At times like these, he would try to think of something – anything – to get his processor clear. Every time, his thoughts travelled back to Cade, and wondering how is he? A large part of him hoped that he’d see him again but another part of him didn’t want to see Cade again. He didn’t want to have left only to have come back and completely dis the mission he had set out for himself those years ago.

Oh, and the years, they had never felt so long to him before. Optimus was millions of years old! Younger than Nightblade or Drift but nevertheless, these years have been the slowest and most painful of his life cycle. He wanted to see him again. But, he wasn’t going to say to Night or Sky, ‘Hey let’s go to Earth! I know we aren’t going there but I have a friend I want to see’ – and might have a crush on. With that one thought, he blushed, for the first time in the longest of time. Did he really? Perhaps. He always did have a connection to Cade, albeit at first it was only because Cade brought him back online. But that time for him was special, intimate. Cade touched his sparks’ chamber, only a few have ever touched him there. He fixed him, Cade had healed him from mortal wounds. Optimus felt upset that he had left his newly made human friend and his daughter alone with his small Autobot squadron and never dared to say that he was _ever_ coming back. He never said that he was, but then, he didn’t know if could either. Optimus’ processor froze.

He hadn’t thought this much since before the war, before he was an archivist. (Not to mention, it always got him in trouble, no matter with who.) Perhaps around the time he was just starting out being an enforcer, when he was still young, he used to download copious amounts of data… Since he was still young, and processor still forming, he filled it to the brim many times… often sending him to a medical facility in Iacon. That so happens to have been where he had met Night for the first time…

And the next time something like that happened, a direct system overhaul, he was redirected job wise. Fired, as normal people would say. And who came to the rescue in his hour of woe? His grandsire. Oh, how he missed the old mecha. He’d probably left this realm to join that of the Prime’s! Long gone, until he met his death once again would he journey back to that realm. Until then, however, he would lay and over think his past and the future of his that won’t even be controlled by him.

(It will be controlled by the odd author. The one who likes to break the fourth wall, perhaps more than is well for the reader. She, the author, weeps.)

Something’s can never change, not without a little help. He could have done something with Jazz, Ironhide, and Ratchet… but he couldn’t have saved Sentinel or done something different. He knew he could have done something – anything – else, perhaps he would still have a mentor.

No. Optimus chided himself for at least the hundredth time this sol. You can’t save someone who chose to be corrupt and deceitful in their ways. He joined the enemy. He corrupted the caste system more so than it was before. Why is it so hard to just let all of this go?

Because he’s Prime, their leader, and he didn’t manage to do that right either. Not in his optics, he wasn’t good enough. He-

A knock at the door. Optimus almost didn’t register that there was a sound made at all, that’s how lost in thought he was. A small voice peeped, “Ey, you’re still in there, right?” He didn’t respond.

“Oh Primus, don’t tell me you left!”

“I’m still here Night, geez.” He actually allowed himself to relax a bit. Optimus hadn’t realized that his entire frame was tense, and kind of hot. “What are you waiting for? C’mon in.” She did, though the door did slide open with a creak. That’s going to get annoying. She sat down on the desk that was across the room, but really close to the door. Her optics seemed busy, dull.

“Are you alright?” Lowering his head, eyeing the old femme, he also noticed that her field was buzzing. He tentatively released his field, mingling with hers when she didn’t respond immediately. She was usually pretty quick to respond to anything and everything.

He noticed again that she reset her optics, they were not so dim and dull as before. “I’ll be fine. Some solid recharge would do us both some good,” Sighing, she waved him off, dismissing it as nothing important. “I just wanted to talk to ya. ‘Ve a few things I wanted to bring up.”

He snorted but leaned up, a stiffness to his back, a feeling he was all too familiar with since forever plagued him. “You certainly sound tired. Usually, you are very precise with your speech.” Optimus gave a sympathetic look; they were similar in this sense. Their vocabulary suffers when they’re tired, but he’s gotten better with hiding his exhaustion. War never sleeps.

Night smirked and gave a throaty chuckle. “Yeah, well, what can ya do?” She asked rhetorically with a shrug. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come down planet side when we land. We’re gonna be landing soon, sooner than I predicted. Maybe in two and a half cycles.”

Optimus looked away a moment, collecting his thoughts, going through the pros and cons of going down or not. There weren’t very many pros but the cons seemed to outnumber his attempted hopefulness. He could be welcomed; Screwloose seemed worried that he’d be the usual Prime, no association with common mecha. Or he could be ridiculed for a war he did not start… and never finished.

If he didn’t go planet side, they’d most likely say that he thought higher of himself than those there. Really, his entire head was rolling with reasons to stay and to go. Ultimately, he sighed and looked back at Night, her optics were back to a dull glow of purple. “I’ll go down.” It made her smile. “Wonderful. A lot of mecha were hoping you would. Screws couldn’t keep his trap shut.”

He shook his head. “That’s something I suppose.” Night gave a curt nod. “Yeah. We won’t be staying too long. Gonna be trading ships and head out.” Optimus tilted his head. _Head out where_ , he thought. So he asked her, she only shrugged at first.

“Need to go to Earth, have to check on a few things there too. Kind of just go and relax I guess.” His plating flared out unintentionally, it was louder than he hoped for too. There was a growing heat that rose in his systems at the very idea of going to Earth. It was a kind of strange hope that was starting to be pushed away with an embarrassment. “Want to come with Sky, Moon, and me? You’re welcome to come if you want.” She smiled, the bottom of her optics lifted up. She was being sincere. Optimus missed this kind of simple sincerity.

Optimus then looked around the room again. “Are you certain it is fine? What about Skyblaze? What is her say in this? I don’t want to encroach.” His hands came to rest on his knees, squeezing a little here and there. Night’s smile never left her. “You can’t encroach if invited, Optimus. And besides, Sky loves you. You’re kinda like her little brother. And mine too, really.” Shrugging again, she brightened her optics. “You can make up your mind later. Wanna play a round of Fullstasis?” There was a gleam in those purple optics.  
It almost made him smile, there was a hum of amusement towards her. She wants to play… _a game_ … Optimus hadn’t had the ability to enjoy anything so menial for a long time. No one has really. War takes many things from everyone. It’s the simple things that are worth fighting for, or every little happiness leaves you to die. Optimus nodded.  
“I believe, I was losing against you last time,” she chuckled, getting up and opening up the wall. A decent box was resting against the wall on a shelf, it had a light glow of blue. “All I remember of that game was that I was cornered by your troops.”

“And two moves from me taking your Prime,” he said with a smirk. Night gave a glance over her shoulder, closing the wall back up. She walked over and placed the box down and opening it, it was already set and ready. Two colors, blue and red decorated the sets, the little armies. “I’ve bettered my tactics since then. Now, what color do you want to be? Or you want blue again?” He shrugged, eyeing the pieces on the board. The alternating blocks were a light grey with solid black, similar to the game of chess that humans have. Night gave a tired smile. “Blue it is then.”

“Foot soldier a1 to a3.”

“Warrior g8 to f6.”

Their game continued for a few klicks, Night losing herself three foot soldiers, a knight, and her first deployed warrior. Optimus still was better at this entire enterprise than she’d been, only losing two of his foot soldiers and a gladiator. Not long later did she start to gain ground on him, nearly causing him to sacrifice his Protector, but he avoided that. He repeated the past and had her cornered after a few more klicks.

Then, did something he wasn’t expecting: sacrificed her Protector so his Prime would be open to be attack. Their attacks and actions were silent in retaliation, neither minded. He put his other gladiator in front, thinking that she would use her foot soldier but he was wrong. He was now blocked in, none of his other pieces could move – none to protect his Prime, however. Optimus chose the next best thing, moving his foot soldiers in. It didn’t really help much.

“Your Prime is unable to flee to safety,” a small, solemn whisper cooed out of her, “You’re out of options.”

Optimus eyed the board. “Don’t sound so sure.” There was a momentary quark to his optics. “Because I do believe that you’ve been kicked from your tower.” And it happened that quick, it was over. He shook his head. “Better luck next time. Who knows, you might be able to get me strategically.” She rolled her optics, beginning to put the game away. “Perhaps, good game either way. Thanks for indulging me.”

Optimus nodded, watching as the pieces fell back into place on the board as it closed up. It was a clean put away. When Night went to get up parts of her popped and tensions released. She grunted but continued over to the wall, putting the Fullstasis set away, closing up the wall again. “Let’s do this again,” Optimus agreed.

"Hey, did you made up your mind on coming with us?” she asked as she sat down again on the desk, eyeing him with a soft glare. He shrugged, only then really beginning to think about the proposition.

There was always a chance to his Autobots, the ones he left behind would be furious at him leaving them. But it wouldn’t be that bad, he hoped. Or it could be really bad, like when he got back together with those mecha. Crosshairs seemed so dejected by the possibility that he’d come back to lead. It’s not like he was able to listen all that well to Bumblebee when he was being the honorary leader of the small band of ‘bots.

Then… there could always be a little sliver of hope to see Cade again. Oh, it was so odd. He’d barely known him that long and he already had a bond forged with him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing him again. How would Cade react?

Was he still alive?

That sent a cold shiver down his spinal column. He couldn’t be dead! He’d only been gone for a short time! Optimus’ optics closed tightly, Night didn’t think all that much about it. He has always closed his optics when he was deep in thought. But right now, only one burning thought crawled in and out of him, ruining anything clear in his EM field. That, they both noticed. When he noticed, it was too late to hide it, she was already up and close to him, mingling her field with his. It was the gentlest of touches and just enough to know that she was there.

“Optimus?” There was a shudder that came from his systems, one he tried to hide. He was not-so lucky with hiding it as he would have hoped he’d be. “Hey, talk to me.”  
“I’m fine.” He pushed back his field, trying to rid the feelings he had deep in his systems. “Yes, I’ll come with you down to Earth.” He then thought another moment about the question. “And I’ll come down planet side when we get to Mars.” She blinked, but nodded, “Okay. But are you _going_ to be okay, though?” Her sire protocols unintentionally clicked on.

“I’ll be fine.” Optimus’ features calm, his optics dim and released from their tight tension that they were held to. He breathed in, giving a sidelong look, noticing her widened optics. “Don’t worry about me. Go and get some recharge,” he paused, “Why not have a rematch later, eh?” Boy, he was trying his hardest to make it seem like it was nothing. He may not be a good liar, but he can divert any situation, usually.

Her face showed a disbelief but the features relaxed back to a tired, lame stare. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure. And you too, it’s going to be chaotic in a few sols.” She had already gotten up, and already she was close to the door. “Rest easy, Orion.” He didn’t reply, there was only the sound of the door shutting afterward.  
Now, Optimus was left alone, with his thoughts, to fester with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ACTUALLY VERY TIRED HEYYYY DUDES
> 
> Somehow I had this done in my doc but I never posted???? Idk how but that happened. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far! ❤️❤️


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than it should have... oops
> 
> I'll edit it later. I can't do it rn. Too much stuff going on lol

Tessa did not come back; she did not turn back. She walked passed the mecha in the yard, and passed a less than pleased Crosshairs. (He had heard what Tessa called them and didn’t like that she said it in front of Drift.) But Tessa walked her way to town and away from her father and boyfriend – who soon she would be VERY sore at in the coming weeks… because he told Cade why she was booted from campus.

Cade was not only upset at the fact that she’d lied to him about passing her classes because all the tests were in her room; they were completely filled out with all the correct answers. That wasn’t the only thing that was prohibited on campus that she has stowed away. She had fake IDs, Cade now without any question in his mind but with all the hesitance known she’d most likely been drinking.

The thought of a Sophomore in college having alcohol is nothing new but that doesn’t change that his daughter could’ve been doing the same. And she was a junior now! She should have figured out that by now that alcohol is not all it’s cracked up to be. It certainly is _not_ fun if there was too much in one sitting.

Tessa also had a .22 pistol which was poorly hidden under her pillow. Houston was not a terribly rough area but it was not so dangerous on campus because of the resource officers, so the need for a weapon – though it be small – to be in her possession on campus at all. An arrestable offense for sure.

Not only that, he could deal with the tests and the fake IDs to a point, but Cade wouldn’t be able to have it with drugs. She had Adderall, an ADHD drug. There were also bottles of Prozac, an antidepressant that can cause anger fits and bouts of aggressive behavior towards others. That one kind of explains why she was steamed and blurted those crass things about the ‘bots.

But now, not only had she been lying to Cade, Shane was the one who got what was coming to him from BOTH of them. He was told that he was a willow by Tessa, and told by Cade that he’s disappointed in him, but he did not expect him to be there for her every second of the day. Nothing hurts worse than someone – especially a parent, the parent of the daughter who you were dating – says they are disappointed in you.

None of the three spoke to each other for what felt like weeks when in reality it had only been nine days. Yes, in that span of time the three could have made an amends to the situation at hand. But at this point, if the three could be in the same room without hurling out hurtful things than it would be different for sure. But that is not going to be happening, not right now. Tessa was too steamed to be logical and Cade is just Cade: wanting the best for his only daughter and attempting not to get too frustrated with her. She was the only family he really had left.

Tessa still had Shane, he still had his family, his mother. Even with his father leaving him when he was barely a tyke, he still had family that was alive and well enough to be functional in societal matters. Cade now really didn’t have either. He did not have his wife, his mother and father died before the craze of the Chicago war and the rest that happened. Cade did not really have any family left – that was human.

Though he didn’t always think of the mecha outside his home as family, they did protect him and give him advice. That’s kind of what a family does, right? They make sure you’re going to be alright and try to make things decent and keep them from doing something completely stupid. But not all families are born of a blood connection, bu rathert a connection that of the heart. A trust that binds everyone together.

Cade is not wholly upset – never mind, that’s a complete lie, he’s completely upset at Tessa for lying to him, but he’s more upset that her boyfriend was the one to say anything about it.

The three haven’t really spoken to each other since that day, since she got back from Houston University. But Tessa seemed to be doing fine, especially since she’d most likely been under the influence of Prozac during that day. Shane did say that she went off to his grandmothers’ and that he was kicked out because she (Shane’s grandmother) thought he did something stupid to Tessa. And Tessa was being vague enough to make anyone think that Shane did _something_ , but what? Only she’d know.

And the mecha outside, Drift specifically, felt like complete shit. It was not only Shane who knew what was happening, he had known too. That’s why he was frazzled and more upset than letting on about Tessa doing any of it. He didn’t have it in him to say it to Cade. He wasn’t even able to tell Crosshairs, not at first.

It scared Drift, hearing that Tessa was being less than pleasant but after connecting the dots himself, well, he noticed. He saw what was happening at it reminded himself of what happened to him in the Underbelly, the place where he first had his own taste for addiction.

Syk. It was some terrible stuff. Drift knew he did some terrible things while under its influence, and how he’d been used by others… to recruit for the Decepticon’s growing army. The Syk changed him, made him _weak_. That’s what he always thought. But the only reason he was alive at all was because of Ratchet. He said when he was close to having his spark stop and fade into the well, Ratchet said he saw something in him. That one CMO in Iacon told him to get straight, get some work, get a place, that he had something to live for.

Ratchet did not know it but Drift did, he did have something to live for, sadly, he didn’t realize it until everything was falling apart and in ruins. On this world and on others, like on Colexy. It was too late, their own civil war started and there was nothing that could have been done to amend it. Or sending off one of his students back to Cybertron with one of his ships… He still wasn’t too happy about doing it, only to realize when he got back, it was chaos there too. There was not much reason to stick around for that shit.

The past, he tried to push to the back of his processor, and perhaps attempt to help Cade in his own time of chaos and calamity. He already had some knowledge of what he did but… he did not wish Tessa to go through what he had. By then for her, it’d be too late. So Drift would try to talk to Cade and give the best advice that he could offer with his… experience on the matter. And hope that it wouldn’t come too late.


	11. Chapter 11

They were close to landing now. Optimus saw everyone on board trotting about, making preparations. Anything that was out in the open was put away and anything that seemed personal was put in everyone’s respective quarters.

But one thing was for certain, it was loud on the ship, louder than before. There were clanks and some crashes… That was Night (for sure) and probably Silentstorm. But the sounds that often overshadowed those sounds were musical in nature. Some calming and some not-so-much.

Optimus did what he could to help but the majority of things that could’ve been done had already been taken care of. He felt a bit out of place. Not really doing anything got to him more so than the others would have thought, but he hid it well enough. Most of the time anyway.

At the very moment, he was just walking up and down the halls, listening to the sounds coming from the front of the ship resonate and ebb. He could almost swear that he saw the waves just from the sound. But, alas, he still did not really have much for himself to do or a place to go. He shouldn’t go and hide in the HAB unit, it might make him look like a hermit.

So, instead of following that feeling that nagged at him to just go and hide in his HAB unit, he followed where the sounds were coming from. It sounded better in his head than it was. As he came to close to the resonating echo, the vibrations could be felt through his pedes, almost a kind of tickle. It was not an irritating tickle, it was more of a comfortable, massaging feeling.

As soon as he reached where the majority of the sound was coming from and resonating, he spotted the red-headed femme Skyblaze. Monitors and other screens decorated the front of her vision as she tapped and spun at instruments that controlled the ship. The sounds of the room died down to a low rumble, it still felt kind of strange under his pedes.  
“I see you’re out and about. Care to help me with something?” That drew him back to a slim reality, it was like he was physically there but mentally gone adrift! (The author understands this feeling well and is trying not to embrace it as much as she is. She’ll try not to break the fourth wall anymore but no promises.) Optimus tilted his head but moved closer to the red flyer. “What do you have in mind?” he asked as soon as he was standing next to her.

Pointing to a dial, it had an arrow that seemed to balance itself on the edge of green and yellow, “Just watch that dial.” And she turned to walk away towards a large looking cabinet. “And when it reaches the red, tell me.” He did so, the arrow slowly trekked its way through the yellow, slowing just before the red and coming to a stop. “Is it moving?” Skyblaze called out, touching other things in the cabinet. Before Optimus could answer, another siren went off, one like earlier with Screwloose making a call to Nightblade. “Seems the system is working. Night must have gotten here before I did and fixed it.” Closing up the cabinet, she turned and smiled at Optimus.“Thanks anyways.” As she came back close to him, opened up a panel under the consol. “What result were you exactly looking for?” He stepped back as the paneling swung out close to his leg, tilting a curious head towards the greyness that pulled back to reveal glowing, and slightly pulsating lights. She shrugged while being hunched over slightly. “Just making sure that the alarms work. We aren’t the only ones to use this ship,” She laughed, ”It’s closer to being rented even though we own it! It’s kind of weird.”

Optimus shrugged. He knew that Night was weird and not afraid to show and prove it to anyone, Skyblaze was not too different from her mate. She was also very keen on making sure everyone understood that she was different and not to be pushed around because of it. None of the family would take any crap from anyone that did or did not know.

She closed the paneling and stood back up, only coming a little higher than his waist, and looked at his face. “I believe Night wanted to talk to you. She said she did but then there were things that happened that needed attention.” He nodded, not even noticing that he was now walking with the shorter femme. “Where is she?” Sky gave an awkward glance and shrugged. “I’m not sure. Let me see, a moment.”

She stayed silent as they walked down and out of the control room and slowly down the halls. After a klick or a few later, Skyblaze peeped up again. “She won’t tell me!” whining, she stared back at Optimus. “She said that you’d have to come and find her, the weirdo!” He snerked and shook his head. This was not a first for Nightblade, she was the ultimate freak when it came to her bonded and amica. “I see. Time hasn’t changed her spirit, that’s for sure.”

Skyblaze smiled, she had first hand knowledge of how much of an oddity Night was, being Conjunxually bonded came with that kind of knowledge. “She did give one hint though.” She tilted her head, her optics holding a quizzical gleam. “She said you would know where she’d hide if things got rough.” Sky shrugged. “Slag, I have no idea what she means but apparently she thinks you’ll get it.”

He did actually, the old rooms on the bottom decks of the ship. Nightblade only ever had one ship in the time that Optimus had known her, that’s where she’d go if something was going amiss in the world outside. Those rooms, he was never entirely sure what were in there that would calm her but something was there, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  
“It seems she was right,” there was even a smirk to her voice, “Go on. You don’t need me tagging around.” Waving him off, she walked with a smooth pace towards what Optimus had come to know at the main area of the ship. He did not move a moment or a few, what would Night have up her sleeve this time? Odd damn femme. With little thought, he stepped heavily through the corridors, bending and weaving and forking. Hot shit, how big is this ship? (Big enough to be a pain in anyone’s ass, thought the author because she’s having a problem with where she’s going with this. She’s been writing this chapter for nearly two weeks having virtually no idea where she wants to go. She knows where but doesn’t know how to get there…)

Either way, he managed to find himself in the lower bridge, it was possibly the coldest part of the entire ship. Each step he took made everything echo, reverberate again against his pedes. Optimus came close to a wall, scraping his fingers across the wall it felt strange to him. It was cool and yet had a near sticky texture.

“I see you’ve come,” a quiet voice droned, “Good. I was wondering if you’d figure it out. I’m glad I was right that you would,” Night said finally. Optimus had to adjust his optics to the dim glow of the hall that lead out into the room. His vents gave a little huff. “What else was I going to do?” His brow rose with an inquisitive gleam towards the silver femme. Her violet optics looked at him with amusement, coming closer to the Prime. “You could have ignored me, but there was always something in you that won’t let you ignore anyone,” she replied while giving his shoulder a poke, “After all, that is what makes you – you.”

“Night,” Optimus spoke through her seemingly meaningless ramble, “Why have you called me here?” Her mouth closed, optics looked deep through his own. A smirk grew on her face plates. “What? I can’t just get Sky to give you a message from me and have you figure it out? That’s no fun.” Her optics gleamed mischievously at the Prime. She turned back. “Come.” Lazily directing him through the door that had slid open, which allowed more light to pierce through the dimly lit hall. He wordlessly followed her through, he was surprised what he saw.


	12. Chapter 12

Cade had been frustrated since not Tessa but Shane told him what was really going on. His faith in people since before the whole CIA thing five years ago had left him less than trusting, cynical. And less than pleased as well. Why: was one of the few things that floated through his mind. _Was everything she told me a lie?_ He couldn’t bear to think about it, he wanted to still believe that she was doing as she should have, going to school and doing good with it.

In between his fingers, it was an old photo from when she graduated high school. She did not show any outward signs that she’d do anything of this nature. Having a weapon, pharmaceuticals, and filled out tests to skillfully and less than truthful method of making her way through, it hurt him. He wanted her to have a better life than he did. Cade did not have the chance to go to college, not for it to really matter. Most of what he learned, he learned through work and figuring it out on his own.

He never wanted that for her, but she made her decision. And she’d have to accept the consequences for her actions. But could Cade really expect Tessa to follow through with the consequences if she wouldn’t take the responsibility of what she was supposed to be doing in the first place? He couldn’t.

Cade was stuck in a place where he was infuriated but sad, where the eye refuses to see. It wasn’t even Tessa who said anything, it was her boyfriend. That made him look better in Cade’s eyes but it still was not what he wanted, but in a way, Shane had earned his keep as his daughter’s boyfriend. But there was the one thing, why didn’t he stop her? He is a few years older than her. Sometimes, even age can’t help you, and sadly, all things must happen.

There was a light thump that sounded like Drift’s steps. Drift tapped on the front door of the house, whispering, “Cade? Are you doing alright?” He did not respond but Drift did not turn away. His cyan optics stared into the house’s window, hoping to see his human friend and perhaps have him leave his dwellings. All though he knew Cade did not want to see or talk to anyone now, and most likely not for some time, until the smoke of shock subsides. But until then, Drift has tried to get him to come out, Crosshairs did not seem to care as deeply for their human friends. Hound and Bumblebee were on a similar page with Crosshairs, they were kind of done with human interaction. Being called an asshole was already rude but being called that by another species was disrespectful. They protected them! They deserved a little more decorum. 

The blue and gold mecha sighed, and stood back up. He felt like he could not do something for Cade, anything. But it wasn’t his fault, Cade was not in the mood to speak to anyone, his eyes spoke louder than his few words, they did. And that was usually how Cade ‘spoke’, never really using his words until it was completely necessary. Or one of the mecha around his home were closer to endangering his house. Honestly, he stopped caring about the fence that they’ve smashed and driven through. Time and time again.  
Though, everything seemed to be falling apart. Cade’s daughter doing things that she promised she would never do, a puss for her boyfriend, what else was missing from this chaos? His lonely human mind travelled across the stars and wondered about that one mecha… Optimus. He thought in a joking matter that if he did come back (while Cade was still alive) he’d be able to fix this. All of this. With his age came wisdom and Cade needed that kind of guidance right now, especially with Tessa.

Optimus did act at times like a father figure to Bumblebee, that much Cade noticed. How he tried to keep ‘Bee away from the fight, and would rather himself parish than Bumblebee, that sounded like what a parent would do. Protect their kids. Cade did not know that Optimus was not ‘Bee’s father but nor did he ask. And it’s not like Bumblebee would say ‘Oh! By the way, he ain’t my dad!’, he’d been really quiet since Tessa left.

She turned into a real bitch to him and the other ‘bots. Though Shane tried to have her take something’s back, because they even hurt Shane, she wouldn’t. Everything she said – that they were freaks – weirdo assholes – it was all hurtful. Cade never wanted his daughter to be that way with anyone; especially to the mecha that kept them alive, found shelter, and protection. They didn’t deserve those words. And even though she always had a strong head when it came about her 1st amendment right, she still had to show some respect to those that did so much from them. And mostly without being asked.

They were brave, and thoughtful creatures, though yes, arrogant at times, they still tried their best for the situation.  
Cade looked dumbly towards the window that Drift was standing in front of. He could faintly hear him talking with Crosshairs, but it was not clear enough to know precisely what they were saying.

Drift was worried for Cade; he hadn’t seen him like this. Ever. Though the Autobots have not been around this human for the longest of time, and they were not entirely used to him actually being anything other than the normal Cade. Springy and inventive, until Optimus left. He still had some small inventive spirit that now laid dormant. It was still strange for the mecha to get used to him not being that way. He changed so much since Optimus left, and yet no one connected the dots.

Crosshairs resisted his sigh, “He’ll come out of this,” he staggered closer, “You’ll see.” Drift wasn’t so sure that Cade would want to, he knew that when he was under the influence of Syk, he had gone crazy and did regrettable things. Drift puffed some steam from the vents on his face. “I want to help him,” he said close to a whimper. Crosshairs raised his hands to Drift’s shoulders, holding him firm. “I know you do, but he ain’t accepting help from ya. He needs to help himself.”

They just stood there until Drift’s vents hitched and his optics dimmed. “I’m terrible, aren’t I?” Drift hiccupped. Crosshairs looked at him was softening optics. He knew how Drift often blamed himself for the miscomings of the Autobot cause. Since for a time he was a Decepticon, fighting now for the side that was deemed replaceable, Drift would never forget the faces of those he killed out of cold blood. Or their screams in his audials, their pleas, he’d never forget them. There was too much guilt that rocked his frame if tried.  
Crosshairs’ grip shifted from Drift’s shoulders to just above his hips. “You’re not terrible, you ain’t,” he replied softly. Drift had his head turned away, appalled with himself. “Hey, look at me.” Crosshairs’ took an arm and danced his fingers under Drift’s jaw. He shifted ever so slightly. Cross turned Drift’s head toward him, dimmed blue optics lined with silver-blue washer fluid. “You’ve done a lot, a lot more than anyone.” Drift blinked, trying to clear his optics. Crosshairs continued, “You’ve managed a lot of things, some even I couldn’t have handled, but you made it through. This time is no different.” Cross leaned in close. “And I’ll be here wit’cha.”

That’s when Drift’s optics leaked. At first it was only a few then the dam let loose. Crosshairs pulled him close to his frame and stroked his back, one hand holding the back of his head. “You’ve been through a lot, Drift. I’ll be around.” He pecked the top of Drift’s head. “For as long as you’ll have me.” That made Drift’s spark jump in its casing. He still had hope, but could he help Cade find his own? Or would Drift have to watch and wonder if Cade will even try to find any?


	13. Chapter 13

There was a cursed day to be had. It wouldn't be long before they would land and be departing, mere hours away. Though the ship was stacked and everything put away, Optimus still felt a bit of apprehension build in his frame. He tried to hide the trepidation build a knot in his tanks, he did not want Nightblade to know.

He wasn't sure if he would fit in along with the band of mecha going down to the Martian surface. Optimus remembered how Screwloose reacted to the knowledge of his existence. Even though he seemed jovial and fearful himself with how he may be received by the last Prime.

He has been in his present suite on the ship, sitting and wondering whether or not he really should go. If he didn't go, those down on the surface would find it rude or perhaps they would believe that he thought higher of himself. Which is not true, he barely believes himself equal to other mecha, especially those who have given so much in the war effort. He did not have a family since Alpha Trion's murder in the attacks at Iacon. Optimus didn't have much to fight for after that, no mate, no creations, no grandsire; but he could not allow his misgivings of the world to cloud his judgment. He needed to keep fighting, to keep the morale of his still functioning soldiers alive, unlike his grandsire.

That is what hurt him most. How could he have not saved his grandsire? He was only mere feet away from his body. Optimus could have saved him.

A couple of sols before, when Nightblade asked for him to come and find her, she really didn't do anything too spectacular. Just gave him a datapad to read and told him to relax. He was sure he had forgotten what it is like to be relaxed. Though he has been with friends, he could never and would never be able to shake the feeling that he was being a burden to them. Optimus was not used to the routine on board the ship, nor would he allow himself to forget that he had left soldiers on Earth, family. He left Cade.

That feeling of arrogant shame would take hold of him, every single time his systems would attempt to relax. That feeling that would paralyze his thoughts from anything that could do anything good for anyone. He’d be stuck.

“Hello! You still here?” However, Nightblade often dragged him verbally back to reality. “I’ve been talking to you and you’ve kind of zoned.” Her silver servo landed on his shoulder, shaking it slightly. “What have you got in your head that’s got you so…”

“It’s nothing,” he answered quickly. She removed her servo and stood akimbo. “Glitch, don’t be lying to me. Something is pushing your buttons.” Nightblade never liked that he tried to hide what he was feeling. Or thinking. His frame did a sigh for him and he shrugged. The data pad in his hand hadn’t changed pages since she gave it to him, he’d mindlessly read the same paragraph over and over with no retention. But she was right (begrudgingly so,) and him not being able to concentrate on the simple text was not exactly the thing that was bothering him.

He was more concerned about how others on the surface would take to him. Nightblade knew that but still told him they’d receive him well, somehow he did not believe that. He still bore the title Prime and with that came a lot of hatred. A large amount of mecha (especially those who are still functioning) despised the Primes. _Ancient history_ Night would say, though it was still in most everyone's mind. Even she had her grievances over the Primes and she was not afraid to say so. Though she seemed to only have any kind of resentment towards Sentinel (and Nova), Night still seemed like she kept what she felt to a minimum around him. She knew he was under enough pressure on his own.

Optimus sighed again, “You already know what’s wrong, Night. It’s exactly the same.” Her optics danced from her own to his hands, kneeling in front of him, holding his hands. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, not down there,” she spoke softly, running her thumb over his knuckles. “The worst thing that could happen - and it’s a strong possibility - that you’ll be greeted with more questions than anything. You are not only a Prime, Optimus. You are a mecha yourself. Don’t go so hard on yourself.” She pulled his servos close to her chest, closer to her spark. “You can trust me.”

Night is usually pretty good about calming him down, even when he’s usually the very definition of calm (externally…). Sighing seemed to be the only thing that he had done while on the ship. “I do trust you, however, myself is a different story.” That was the understatement of the very century. There was only a quiet nod from her, gently placing his servos back onto his knees. She held herself there a moment and said: “Fake it ‘till you make it. I know that going down there is not exactly what you want to do, nor are you obligated to, but no one will do anything against you.

“Really, a good many mecha down there are damn grateful to know that you still live.” She shrugged a little. “They don’t care much for Screwy’s or my leadership skills. Then again, I’ve been flying around space looking for survivors and other mecha.” That had been true; she had been doing that part of the troublesome work. But then again, no one wanted to spend time in space, with limited space. (They’re in space, there’s a lot of space in space.) The only reason she’s out here is because she has her family, and they don’t really care about the limitations. Or that’s what it looked like. “They’re glad to know you’re functioning,” she added softly.

His chassis heaved, vents on his sides hissed, releasing their irritations. His optics did not meet hers, only casually grazing her head. His frame’s heat slowly rose, all because he was irritated with himself. Vents giving one final push, he said, “Perhaps you are correct on them being glad for my functioning, however, that… does not change the past I’ve had with them.”

Narrowed purple light targetted him, right in his own optics. “Of course it won’t change the past. No one can without repercussions,” her tone not quite harsh but held an edge. “You have to live with everything you’ve done. Others will forgive you. You now need to learn how to forgive yourself.” Her frame lifted from her kneel. He saw the sympathy in her optics but kept his head turned away. Her vents puffed out a condensated heat, he felt it settle on his frame.

She began to walk towards the door, her purple optics closed tightly. “No amount of guilt will change the past, and no amount of anxiety will change the future,” she added quietly as the door slid open. “Please just… think on it. No one here will judge you for it.”

And she was gone, through the sliding doors that closed with a tired click. Barely a moment later, Optimus slammed his fists against the berth, leaving indentations. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected, from himself or Nightblade, but all he wanted right now was to not think. Thinking is what got him here.

He failed to get rid of the Seed. He did not find their Creators. And he was making a fool of himself. And best of his recent failures, he left friends, family, if he could even call them that, alone on an alien planet that would surely be attacked sooner or later. All considered, he left while Megatron, with his new Transformium aft pranced around as if Optimus never existed.

His jaw slammed shut; his optics threatened him with fluid. His fists still firm against the berth slammed down again. His frame jumped from sitting and grabbed the berth and tried to flip it, but it was bolted to the wall and floor. He released a guttural sound, one from deep inside, and pulled again, the bolts popping up and landing the floor with small tinks. The berth collided with his shield and the sword of the Ancient’s, making a terrible crash. At this point, he started to regain the fading composure and realization hit him. He not only tore apart the HAB unit that Night allowed him in, and wrecked it; he was losing his mind.

Hands, now stained with silver flecks from the berth, were still tightly clenched. His spark beat against his casing painfully, reminding him of something: he’s still alive. That, he wasn’t sure whether or not to be angry or upset about it. Lots of his friends, comrades, did not even have it that good to say that they were living. A majority of the Cybertronian Autobots were dead. And he was the reason. _The reason._

Where he once stood, now crumbling, a broken leader, collapsed to his knees. His vents became rattled, misused. His frame heating uncomfortably. Codes and data trees formed and fell apart so fast, his mind was being a mess. The rooms light seemed to be clouded, data blocking his very sight. **You did this.**

**You let your comrades die. You lead them all to their deaths, and all because you thought you could win a war with words. You’re a damn coward! You did all of this. You killed Sentinel Prime because even he knew that the Autobots were never going to win the war. You let Jazz, Ironhide, and Ratchet die, along with countless others.  
Night doesn’t want you alive, she’s only saying she missed you to make you feel less guilty. But even she knows it’s your fault. Everything is your fault.**

Optimus howled, frame jumping from the floor. His legs going weak again under him, letting him crash down again on his back.

**You’re a fool. What did you expect? You go flying off into space and hope to find the Creators? They don’t exist. They never did. And you used it to leave everyone on Earth.**

Clenched jaw. “No,” it was no more than a whimper. “No, no, no…”

**You left them all to die.**

His vents locked, optics watered, frame gone stiff; he couldn’t move. The heat in his systems quickly skirted over to the red, causing his system to an emergency shutdown.


	14. Chapter 14

“You should go check on him, see if he’s coming or not,” Skyblaze directed as the landing gear had deployed. Sky pushed the control lever slowly, engines hissing in retaliation. “You’re right about that. I don’t want to leave here even if he wants to.” She disengaged the seat’s restraints. “I’ll give you a shout on whatever.”

Casually rolling down the way, when she knew no one was looking, she opened up something on the wall. The wall slid open like before but instead of showing a room or a corridor, it showed a purple, flexing light. She tapped the wall just as she walked into it, closing it back up. She cheated her way through the ship. Another slab on another wall opened up and she was outside Optimus’ HAB unit. She knocked on the door, carrying an echoed clank, but no response. “Optimus? You're in there, right?” There was no response.  
There was a worried pulse that beat behind her breast plate, much like before when he did not answer the door. This was déjà vu to a near painful degree. “Optimus?” Vents blared out a puff of steam, her optics boring into the metal of the door. Still, there was no response. Now, she initiated the code to open up the door. It slid open, mostly. _Odd_ , she thought, pushing her way through the thin entrance.

As her optics adjusted to the dim room, she froze. Her frame thrusted forward, avoiding the toppled berth that was in her way. “Optimus! Orion!” Hands grasping at his arms, in her fleeting hope to wake him. Night opened a hatch on his arm, eyeing his frame levels, frowning at what she found. System’s put into forced shutdown, low on transmission fluids, however not dangerously low. That would have to be the least of the troubles, he was still unresponsive.

Closing up the hatch, kneeling down, she wrapped her arm around his torso, her arm catching just under his armpit. And he was hoisted up, his pedes dragged on the ground at first, Night took hold of his knee. With his torso against hers, she could feel the cold and heat that radiated off of his frame. Night rolled over to the door and kicked it twice (because that works) and it slid open.

She calmly (as she mentally could muster) opened up a Comm. Link to her mate. “Sky, get the way clear to the medical bay,” Night growled as she made her way down the halls. She couldn’t go the way she came, it only works with one body at a time. Otherwise, she would have taken that route, but right now, she had to focus on swooshing her way without cutting a bad corner and have them both crash. And ultimately, that could hurt Optimus more than he already could be. “I’ll get an announcement out,” Sky bleeped in, moments later the outer Comm. Systems booted up. From where Night was, she could only make out mumbling and a kind of static that bled through the lines. Then it went silent.

She got to the kitchen, a quick cut through will lead over to the training area, and then they’d almost be to the dock of the ship. “What happened?” Sky then asked, Night pushed through the kitchen, the training area’s doors slid open. “Found Optimus unconscious and unresponsive. I don’t want to scare everyone.” It was only a half truth, she was absolutely terrified finding him like that. “Make sure they even clear the medical bay, or have the back open for us.” Night was almost to the docking bay. “I’m on it,” was the last thing Sky replied before Night weaved her way down and out of the ship.

After charging through, bypassing a few systems, the two were in the medbay. It was the emergency suite, the one for surgeries. Nickel, one of the other medics planetside that stayed in the medical bay near constant. Nightblade laid down the red and blue mech. Nickel saw the worry in her optics, could feel it in her field.

Nickel, she knew what Skyblaze had said over the direct Comm. to her, and even she, an ex-con, was concerned for the last standing Prime. Night looked at her, before she could even say a glyph pattern Nickel spoke out. “'Bay’s locked and cleared. There weren’t anyone here to begin with,” she said simply. Night only gave a curt nod, to begin connecting and probing, however finding no physical troubles with the Prime.

Nickel walked over, the minibot that she was, had to get to the wall and have a connected datapad, streaming data from the hard lines that were attached to the Prime. The two continued the same silent banter for what would be close to three hours. Nothing came out of it.

Night, groaned and leaned back against a free wall. “I can’t find anything wrong with him.” Her hands rubbed up and down her face, sliding them back behind her head. Nickel, still looking at the data pad, tipped her head. She sighed quietly, still looking down at the pad. “Maybe it ain’t physical,” she said firstly, “Maybe it’s mental,” Nickel added pointedly, pointing at her own head.

Purple optics dimmed, and turned downcast. “Damnit. I shouldn’t have let him alone,” scolding herself. Nickel looked up from the pad, though still coming back to it every so often. “It isn’t your fault.”

Nightblade scoffed, an irritated growl to her engines. “Well, it actually is. You know what I told him? To think on it. Damnit.” Her optics brightened again. “How could I forget the most destructive thing that I can do is think. It’s the most destructive thing he could do. Primus damn me! You know how I was when I was alone all those vorns. How could I have been so stupid!”

The fellow medic gave a sympathetic look. She did not know their relationship beyond Prime and sympathizer. “It’s not like you intended for him to work his way into emergency reboot. This does happen,” she sighed again, “Things happen.”

Night gave a pointed, near accusing look, growled, “Primus, for the sake of him, I know! Nickel, I know. But how could I have been so stupid!” her voice was a low growl. Her hands fell from her behind her head, now mindlessly tapping at the wall. Quietly, a guttural groan echoed through the room. Nickel seemed pleased. “He should be resurfacing in a few klicks. If you’d like, I could hang around?” Night allowed some of the tenseness of her frame relax, giving a dismissive smile. “No, no. Thank you. I’ll stay here. You go ahead and get some fuel for yourself. You’ve been a great help.” She didn’t have to be told twice, she made way for the door. Nightblade stopped her. “Nickel,” she started quietly, “Don’t announce anything. It’ll be dealt with later.” Nickel curtly nodded, the door sliding open and closed, silently.

After knowing for 100% certainty that Nickel was out of hearing distance, Night came close to the medical berth, sighing again. “What am I going to do with you? You ol’ wreck…” She found herself stroking his head, along the scars that seemed to be brand new. Or maybe wasn’t she as observant as she’d hoped.

He changed. He’d changed so much since before the war, since the time before he was thrusted into a position of power. She, even though only recently found out this, respected him same as before. She had only ever known Orion Pax as _Orion Pax_ , so it was all a time test for her before she’d mess up his name… again. She still remembered when he arrested her for doing something stupid (to which, she wished they could back to that time), and the times after. Sometimes she wonders what she could’ve done differently.  
But no one pines more for the past than the guilty. That’s what she tried to tell herself, though there was still a side of her that didn’t quite want to believe it. Not all truths are easy to swallow, sadly.

Optimus’ systems started to come back online. Nightblade still stroked his head, now she was on her knees, waiting. The hitching of his vents coming back on, hissed out some of the Martian dirt that managed to invade them. She pulled back. His frame jumped up, battle instincts kicking in. His personal swords came out, Night only stood. “Where am I?!” He tore the connections away and spun around. The cold fire in his optics died as he saw her. No weapons drawn or targeted at him. “You’re planetside. In the medical facility,” Night whispered, inching closer. “You are safe,” she insisted.

Cyan optics dimmed, weapons drawn back into place, a high pitched hiss escaped his frame. He did not meet her sights. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe it was the haze that still lingered in his circuits, he still wasn’t sure. Chest heaving, legs going wobbly a moment, only momentarily losing his balance. Optimus caught himself, Night noticed. _He must be used to being attacked at his weakest_ , she thought in dismay. Night rolled over to the now dangling connections and cut off the flow, it already caused a dribbling mess.

He whispered something of “Sorry,” or that was all Night was able to catch. She did not respond. Night however did point to the berth, the one he was standing close to and said “Sit,” her voice was soft, no force in it. Lavender optics danced over his frame, as if to search for some invisible wound. Optimus did so, however, the wariness in his frame showed through his slow movements. He heaved a breath, just before she slowly sat beside him, hand on his back. In a low voice, “What happened?” is what she asked. Optimus opened his mouth, only to quickly shut it again. Blue optics looked at the smooth curve of her head, then looked away, he couldn’t find it in himself to answer. He had a meltdown. What would she think if she knew he allowed himself to be torn down and allow his baser urges to control him?

He also did make a mess of the HAB unit she allowed him to stay in. How could he say that he allowed his guilt of practically the loss of the Autobot cause, allowing friends to perish because of foolish couplings with an alien species that wanted them all gone to begin with? Failing as a leader to them… how could he handle that?

“You don’t have to tell me,” she spoke softly, still rubbing his back, feeling the peaks and crevices on plates. “Not right now,” she added. A push of carbon came out of his back vents, it was almost a relief. He didn’t want to have to tell her that he lost his shit and allowed everything he has said that didn’t bother him, ultimately control him. Through his vents he wheezed out a soft “sorry,” to which, he wasn’t too sure if she heard him or not. She did, but did not acknowledge it. She continued her stroking along his back plates, low, close to the small of his back. It used to relax him, now shouldn’t be any different. “Do you feel well enough to go to the compound, or would you prefer to-”

“I’m fine,” he said, albeit too quickly for his liking. She squeezed his side, the quietest way of reassurance she could offer. Night lifted her frame from the medical berth, arm slid off of Optimus. He had braced his hands against the berth, crippling the edge. Her hand did graze his, slowly his grip lessened, indentations from his digits were left behind.  
She lead him out, this time she walked instead of rolling, towards the compound. Optimus wasn’t so sure he really wanted anyone, including Nightblade, to see him like this. It was embarrassing enough as is.

The compound was a medium sized building, it didn’t look like a lot of mecha could be in there, fit in there. But he silently digressed, keeping pace with Nightblade. Before reaching the door, she stopped and turned to him. “This is just to say that you are alive and with us. Okay?” She said quietly, just above the noise caused by the Martian surface and it’s dirt was being blown around. “At any point you need to leave, you have every right to do so.” She patted his shoulder, trailing down his arm in a calming fashion, then to grasp his hand. “Okay?”

He halfheartedly shrugged. Sure, all right, he could leave if he needed to. Woohoo. “Sure,” was the most sad response he gave, but she did not push it. Still holding his hand, she stroked it with the other. “I’ll walk in first. Make sure of a few things.” Her hands slid away from his and she strode to the door, opening it with ease. And that left him alone.  
That wasn’t something that he minded, not that he really cared anymore. He’d been alone for awhile now, what’s a few moments? It’s not he really mattered that much. He failed enough as is, why would he matter right now? He’s only been a burden to everyone, virtually being ineffective as a leader, allowing many of his kind to die. And, never forget, he had to kill two other Primes: the Fallen and Sentinel Prime. He was practically incapable of proper leadership. What the hell’s the point! He trusted humans and thought that they could help. He put Tessa and Shane and Cade… in danger by just being there. He-

“Hey, come on in! We’re ready for you.” Nightblade had popped out of the door. Her lavender-blue optics bright with a cheery look, until she saw him. Optimus had noticeably stiffened, his plates tight against his frame and EM field doing the same. There was a sorry look in her optics as she searched is his frame. “You don’t have to come and make a show. This is just the dining hall of the compound.” Optimus shook himself loose, hoping that maybe his mind would stay quiet for some time at all. So, without further ado, he walked smoothly to the door, Nightblade opened it further to accommodate the both of them.


	15. Chapter 15

The mecha in the room, upon seeing the last Prime, froze. As if Nightblade had been pulling their legs and had everyone playing along with the joke, not so! After moments, there was clapping, cheering, and a couple shrill whirls of both mech and femme alike from all the tables. Optimus found himself being lead over to table down the straightest aisle that he had walked. The silver femme still walked next to him.

The table that Nightblade had lead him over to was neatly decorated, as with the others in the dining hall. And there was a small cube in front of each seat. Everything looked so… new… fresh. It was a good surprise for Optimus, though he knew it wouldn’t last that long, not with his luck. Nightblade motioned for the chair she pulled out for him, he hesitated but took a seat. He felt like the entire room was watching him and him alone, he scarcely wanted to see behind him for fear of seeing millions of pairs stare back at him. 

“This is Screwloose, one of few leaders in sector 17,” Skyblaze spoke up, patting a golden mecha that was seated beside her, almost directly across from Optimus. He waved politely at the Prime, Optimus gave a curt nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” It wasn’t one of his most convincing replies he could offer, but it was all at the moment he was willing to offer. He didn’t know this mecha, and for the matter, doesn’t want to know right now. 

Nightblade took a seat next Skyblaze. The light in the compound made Sky look extra shiny. And red. If Optimus did not know better, he would have assumed that Sky was a gladiator herself, with the spikes on the back of her head. It was something that first unsettled him when the two met but after knowing Nightblade, figuring out Skyblaze wasn’t so difficult. A natural born gambler, certainly no one to be met commonly in combative affairs.

“The pleasure is mine. Please do make yourself c-comfortable!” Screwloose sounded with an unintentional stutter. Optimus noticed and tried to smile, ever so slightly. He didn’t wish to be completely ‘Prime-like’ and not be sociable. “Don’t worry Screws, we’ll take good care of him.” The dark blue, smooth headed femme poked in, Moondancer giving a full dentae smile. 

Nightblade and Screwloose started up a conversation, mostly concerning what happened while she and them were gone. There was something that irked Optimus for some reason. Maybe it was just being amongst all these mecha that he thought dead, and those he’d never met. Optimus still hadn’t the courage to turn around, dare say he’d cross paths with someone that he’d hurt.

“You can’t be serious.” The pulled Optimus out his train of thought, Skyblaze looked at Screwloose with a frustrated gleam in her optics. “Indeed! I’ve traced the signals myself,” Screwloose defended, he looked over towards Nightblade, she having a quizzical look amongst her. “Though the signal is seemingly old, nevertheless I still traced it back to Earth.” That got his attention. Another mention of Earth! But what was happening down there to warrant these mecha to talk about it? 

“Optimus.” Nightblade turned to him, optics burning. “You said you encountered Lockdown when you were on Earth, yes?” His vents hitched, optics cycling wide for a moment, then he collected his composure. Like he always had. “Yes. However, he is no longer functioning, if that is what you’re asking.” Screwloose nodded thoughtfully, now eyeing Nightblade. “See! I wasn’t-”

“Shut up a moment. I’m thinking.” Screwloose didn’t talk, however he sunk back in his seat. Nightblade’s optics seemed to bounce from side to side, as if she were looking at an invisible document in front of them all. Her elbows rested on the table, a dimly glowing cube rested between them. “All right. So, if he’s dead-”

“There is no if, he is dead,” his voice quiet though it still carried. She nodded in affirmation. “Okay. Since the mech is dead, who is causing the signals? Last I checked the Chihuahuan Desert is a rather treacherous place. For human or Cybertronian alike,” she said was slow tap on her knuckles. “Then what? Obviously someone is down there. It’s far from being impossible to survive down there,” Skyblaze poked. “You’d know.”

“That doesn’t matter. I do have to agree though, someone, or rather something is down there. Controlling a ship.” Nightblade allowed her body to loosen, sipping gingerly from her cube.

“It’s the Knights’ Terminus. It must be.” All Optimus knew was that four sets of optics landed on him. “I thought that was only a sparklings’ tale!” Moondancer piped up, a curiosity laced her words. “As did I,” Skyblaze whispered, almost in awe. Screwloose and Nightblade just watched a moment, looking back towards each other. Then there was a smirk that grew on Screwloose’s face. “I fragging told you it was real! And you didn’t believe me!”

“Don’t damn me Screws! Don’t shame me for wanting evidence,” her tone serious, optics drawn tight. “Sire, this is amazing though! You’ve always told stories of the Knights’ of Cybertron, and Roddy always likes to pretend like he’s one himself,” Moondancer, though the oldest of her siblings, still enjoyed a good story. She still loved to know history of her former home world, their formal home. “Hot Rod can do as he pleases. He’s still young and has much to learn. He’ll see that this,” Skyblaze said confidently.

“Okay. Okay. We believe that it’s the Knights’ Terminus. We know Lockdown is dead.” They all nodded in affirmation, waiting for the golden mecha to finish his train of thought. “Then we’re left with one major question,” he said as placed his hands on the table, his index tapping. “Who’s doing it?”

“Optimus,” Nightblade turned back to the last Prime. “You said that you came from Earth not too long ago. Do you know if there are other mecha down there?” For at least the second time today his vents hitched. What could he say? ‘Yes, I left a small group of Autobots behind whilst I flew out into space to try and find some Creators that may or may not exist. Oh and by the way, there’s a whole new Decepticon army that can do virtually everything that we can but better.’ He noticeably went stiff.

His optics travelled from the silver femme to the red and to the blue, a blurred haze. There was a worried look in all of their optics. His systems started to overheat again. Optimus wouldn’t lie, not like he really wanted to. “Yes. I know there are a handful of Decepticons,” his voice broke into static. An unmistakable embarrassment as he tried to carrying. “And Megatron.”

“But we’ve gotten reports that he is dead.” Screwloose looked at him oddly, making him feel more like they were all against him. His venting became hard. “Then you have a liar in your midst,” It came out a growl. Screwloose flinched, quickly straightening. His relaxed features turned tight and frustrated. “Now I will tell you-”

“Hush up. He does have a point. It is possible,” Skyblaze interrupted the golden mech, grey optics narrowed in a near death glare at the red femme. “Night and I have been rounding up mecha from everywhere, it's possible that from those we picked up from our last trip around Earth that there were sympathizers.”

“Yes! Why else would someone claim that the leader of the other faction is dead? To draw attention away from there,” Moondancer tapped her index digits together. “Who gave that report?” Moondancer asked Screwloose, the fire in his optics dimmed. “I'm not sure. Not off the top of my head. Magnus handles a majority of the reports.”

“Speaking of that boy, where is he?” Skyblaze nudged Nightblade with her shoulder, which in end term nudged Screwloose. “He's probably locked up in his office and never heard us show!” Moondancer snickered, Nightblade gave her daughter a real dad look. “He's your brother. Don't be too rude behind his back.” Moondancer jokingly rolled her optics, her sillier side showing.

Optimus gingerly took his cube, though never drinking, spun around its contents. “With Ultra Magnus here, what of the rest of the wreckers?”

They all went quiet, Moondancer was the first to speak. “The Wreckers… he did not come with them, nor did more follow,” a solemn reply, a dim glow to her blue optics. “What he did bring were the Rust Renegades.” Optimus for a moment was confused. The Rust Renegades? Wait.

“Do you mean the group lead by Pyra Magna?” Nightblade nodded with a quiet joy in her optics, a small smile lined her features. “Yes! Well, they're the Torchbearers. She's actually very sweet, solid as rock stubborn but she is trustworthy as well.” He found that a relief. At the very least there was another leader on this red dust ball of a planet.

“Yes, well. May I ask when you plan to leave again?” Screwloose directed to question to Nightblade although her mate answered. “Less than two sols.”

“Honestly Screws, it almost sounds like you want to get rid of us,” She chuckled. His features relaxed, Optimus even found himself relax a bit at the interaction. Now he attempted to drink. His systematic pings for him to cool down were ignored, his hands trembled slightly as he lifted the cube to his mouth. “No! No. All of you only just got here.” Screwloose amusedly sipped at his cube, optics crinkled in the corners. “Sir, Optimus Prime,” his voice wavered like when they were first introduced. “Do you plan to join them down to Earth?”

“You did invite him along, right?” Skyblaze whispered to Nightblade, she nodded. Waiting to hear what Optimus was going to say. She said she wouldn't speak for him unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I did think on going.” Optimus spun around the remaining liquid in the cube - most of it remained - and looked back over to Night. “Yes. I did plan on it,” he quietly added. Screwloose nodded. “Had this one here shown you to your temporary barracks?” 

“Screw, you do realise we came from medibay before coming here, right?” Nightblade poked, a genuine smile lined her lips. Optimus looked at him a moment, Screwloose looked embarrassed as if he took more than he could chew. He casually grabbed his cube for a drink, a heartier one than before, the only thing that he knew how to calm himself. Being interrupted and embarrassed in front of their standing Prime was on top of his list of worst things to happen to him in a short span of time.

Optimus just sat there, looking at the discomforted mech. He swirled his own cube, the majority of the contents still lingered. Something inside him told him he didn’t want to have anything. That he didn’t need anymore.

Moondancer grabbed Screwloose’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Night was only joking with you.”

“Partially.” Shrugging, she looked over to Optimus again. “But, at this point, it may not be a bad plan to show you where they are.” He looked at the silver femme and nodded curtly. His systems had cooled down a bit, digits and frame were not trembling with such ferocity as before. His seat creaked as he redistributed his weight to sit at a more relaxed position. He’d been sitting straight and proper the entire time. His chest heaved. It would be nice to lay down and just let his head spin, wait. No. What is he thinking?

No one noticed that he was waging his own war inside, and the dining compound had already cleared away a majority of mecha. Even the blue femme, Moondancer had left quietly. 

“Come on. And bring that cube with you. You hardly touched it,” Nightblade lightly chastised Optimus as she rose from her seat, offering a hand to her mate. Skyblaze took it and walked on up ahead towards the door. “Optimus, I was talking to you.” She didn’t mean for it to sound rude (or like her parental coding poking through), however, he made no motions to leave, not at first. “I’m moving. I’m moving,” he sounded annoyed, but that wasn’t exactly what was going through his head. 

He heard Skyblaze chuckle up ahead. Optimus looked back where the golden mecha was before, he was probably long gone. He lifted his frame, hydraulics hissing with effort, grabbing his cube, Optimus stood a moment before walking beside Nightblade to the door. His stride slow and careful. Skyblaze opened the door for the two of them, though Nightblade grabbed it from her and shooed her forward. Skyblaze only whispering “You’re so weird,” as she passed. Optimus looked oddly at his friend, she shooed him through too.

Once the three were out, Nightblade casually kissed Sky the cheek. A quiet way to just say goodbye. “Sky will show you where you’ll be for the night. I have a head to bite off.” With that, she gave herself a running start and flopped into her alt. Mode. Optimus gave a wary glint as the silver frame sped away, throwing the Martian dirt up. Her mode was uniquely Terran in nature, he mused. Sky lightly tapped his arm, pulling his attention back to her. “This way sweetie.” And he was lead off. He wasn’t exactly paying attention anymore, mindlessly being lead away. At this point, he didn’t care.

And an odd thing, he felt something akin to jealousy towards Nightblade and Skyblaze. They had each other. He didn’t have anyone. And now that he thought more deeply on the matter when they’d be going to Earth, it was more of a mission to find something. He probably wouldn’t see Cade again, not while he’s alive. He kept his trepidation to himself.


	16. Chapter 16

He tried again. It has been months since he tried to get his mind off of everything that had only recently happened. Okay, recently accounted for about two months of inactivity and zero communication with his daughter. He flat out ignored Shane and his very existence.

No, he hadn't tried to make anything for months... years by now. but he had to try. 

Cade had resigned himself to never seeing Optimus again, much against what he hoped. Logic took over, and logic is a bitch. However much he wanted to ignore it, it would come and slap him in the face to wake him back up to reality: Optimus isn't coming back. 

He had to move on. It had been five years and nothing was going to change the fact that he wasn't ever coming back. What was even causing him to have these feelings? They just... didn't belong. 

Mindlessly, Cade reached for a wrench that had fallen from his workbench and chucked it back to the cluttered surface. He may as well avoid tripping in there. The rest of the 'bots didn't even come to the barn, if anything they may not even know that Cade got hurt. Even if that were the case, he'd make it out sometime, hopefully. Usually.

He sat down, eyeing over everything on his table in his sacred place. After all, this was his temple of invention and innovation. 

His eyes traveled away from his bench, away from the spare and mangled metal to the wall. His 'alien gun' still was leaning against the wall under a large American flag. Part of him was glad he had it but... another part of him almost wished those times never happened.

He couldn't allow himself to be contrite, Cade had to keep moving. Mindlessly grabbing a circuit board, he just let his hands do the work. No rhyme nor reason, his hands led the way. Allowing his mind to travel just like it has done for the last few years. But more specifically about Tessa, and how to possibly deal. Cade could never say he didn't love her, it was the absolute farthest thing from the truth!

He cared for her, so much. She was all he had left for family, by blood. But something even he couldn't understand: why'd she lie? Didn’t she know that she could talk to him about anything? Anything at all. Well, that didn’t stop her from hiding that she was dating Shane so what should he have expected? He couldn’t hold in his groan, it was pissing him off. What the purpose of being lied to? What’d she have to gain from that? Not to mention, it wasn’t even from her where the truth fell, but her oh-so good boyfriend. 

Cade still found that he didn’t much care for him, though with him at least telling the truth on the matter, he looked better in his eyes. Was Cade still disappointed in the pair? Oh hell yeah. It wasn’t like Shane tried to have better communication between himself and Cade. He really tried to just avoid him, much like Cade was doing to him. 

His concentration was pulled away from the circuit board, to a small humming that seemed to fill the room. A sound that was soft that gently raddled against the walls. He placed down the little barely touched board and got up. His back popped as he straightened, making him grimace, also making him realize how much he hadn’t moved. Cade followed the ever growing hum. With each heavy step, the hum became louder, but it sounded soft. Something didn’t quite set well with Cade.

He walked down towards the large doors, still following the sound. It had grown soft to his ears. When he pushed through, he was more than a little surprised in what he saw. Silver and blue mech atop the green resting against the tree large in his front yard. They didn’t notice him standing there, and part of him wanted to not be seen. 

Well, frankly, he didn't quite understand what was going on between the pair. Cade just watched as Drift’s hands just stroked against Crosshairs’ sides. Crosshairs’ hands held Drift’s thighs, massaging. Little lights along his frame lit up. Drift’s engines gave a soft rumble, pleasantly aching deeper into the green mech. 

Cade was confused, but still he marveled at the pair. Dangerous fighters, with weapons or words, yet they could be so delicate with each other. He found out rather quickly what they were doing when Drift brought his face to Crosshairs’; kissing the green mecha made both of their engines roll. Cade wasn't sure if he liked what he saw or what he should feel, all he knew was that he stepped out in a bad moment. Or rather, an intimate one.

He didn't notice that he made a sound until two pairs of optics looked at him. Part of him felt small, unintentional, he didn’t want walk in on someone else being intimate, he certainly didn’t wish to do so now! But unfortunately for him, it was too late for him not to be noticed. He could tell by the way Crosshairs was holding Drift’s legs that he was the one that was the most uncomfortable. Drift, though he wasn’t so pleased to say that it ended, but he was glad to see Cade up and about. Out of the barn. “Cade,” his voice poked with static, like he was close to something. He ignored it. “You're out,” Drift added softly.

Cade turned his head away, off towards the west, distracting himself with the blinding light. “Yeah, I'm out,” blandly. “Uh sorry for erm… interrupting you guys.” He gulped although neither Drift or Crosshairs heard. “I didn't think y'all did this sorta thing.”

“Well, now my buzz is gone,” Crosshairs quietly groaned, straightening himself and Drift. Drift gave him a look, shutting him up. He sighed but before he could add anything Crosshairs got there first. “We ain't animals Cade. Everyt’ing in the ‘verse has some sorta in’ercource.” His hands were set on Drift, slowly roaming his hips as they sat now against the tree. Drift was actually on Crosshairs, leaning his back against him while Crosshairs leaned against the tree. 

It’d been years since Cade felt any sort of embarrassment, especially when it came to sexual matters. He couldn't hide the heat growing in his cheeks. Indeed, he had certainly walked in on an intimate time. Now he really wished he stayed in the barn and ignored the sounds. But, like that weird saying with a cat: curiosity killed the cat; even if that cat was a fully grown man and had walked out into two giant alien robots just doing foreplay. Or something. 

“Not quite what I was expecting, I've gotta say.” _Yeah, really not what I was expecting,_ he thought, fighting off the flush in his face. Drift gasped, catching Cade off guard. His optics flickered, leaning further into Crosshairs. Cade looked back at the two, seeing a very relaxed Drift. Then he caught the view of black and green hands, seemingly pulling wires. _Is that what gets these guys off?_ He couldn't help himself from smile. Dirty old man, thinking about how Cybertronians have sex. But at any rate, who hasn't at one point or another? (Hehe, the Author had to hold in her cackle when writing that. Hell, she laughed writing this entire chapter!)

“W-what brought you o-out, Ca-ade?” Drift stumbled on his words. Crosshairs had a kind of intimidating smirk lining his face as he distracted Drift casually, continuing to pluck a few wires slightly hidden by hip plating. Cade’s embarrassment faded to curiosity, how simply touching the right wires could mean pleasure. Or, that was what he assumed, based only on Drift’s face alone.

“You likin’ wha’ you're seein’ Cade?” Crosshairs plucked a particularly sensitive cluster of wires on Drift, making him keen. His curiosity faded and startelement caught him again, and he faced away, trying to concentrate on Drift’s question instead of Crosshairs and his antics. And right now, he should've walked away but something kept him there. He breathed through his nose. “I came out to see what I was hearing, and uh, y'all were what I heard.” 

Crosshairs’ optics were drawn down, ignoring him. The sun’s light now cascading over his green finish. Cade saw that now may be a good time to leave, while he hadn't seen something that he would always remember. Junior prom was enough for his eyes.

His shoes rustled the grass. When was the last time he'd taken them off? Now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure. All he knew is that he probably shouldn’t hang around those two. Crosshairs seemed pretty okay with him seeing whatever, though even at first he seemed tense. Weird ass robot. Cade, for this time, could stand to avoid seeing another mecha get revved up, especially in front of him. But, something popped into his head. If they had sex, would Optimus do that sort of thing or was he the kind of mech to abstain?

Oh, Cade shouldn’t tease himself these kinds of thoughts. Optimus wasn’t coming back.


	17. Chapter 17

“When do you plan to come back?” The golden mecha—Screwloose, asked. Optimus watched him as Moondancer and Skyblaze went aboard the ship. Nightblade, before answering picked up a decent sized box. “Whenever. Somewhere in the near future. What Screws, are you worried we’ll never come back?” She portrayed a look of mock hurt. Screwloose, Optimus saw, smiled with resignation, like she had pointed out exactly what he feared, even though that was not the case. Optimus did enjoy this kind of humor, a little sarcastic and a little tease. It reminded him of the good ol’ days, back when it was common to even joke. Back in a time when even Optimus could laugh at anything, though that is what war takes: simple joy. 

“You can’t blame me for asking, Night,” Screwloose said blandly, like he’s had this conversation before. She had the box now resting low in her arms, right in front of her chassis. “Yeah, you're right. But can't a femme tease a little? Just a little.” Optimus watched the two a moment, then his mind travelled and openly ignored them. 

He thought about the trip. No, it's a mission. He's scolded himself enough, reminding himself that this is not some joy ride. It's not like he could simply ask to go down to the one place in Texas, to see this one human! It's absolutely absurd that he still thought about this one man, one he wasn't sure how he could face him again. If he did face him. What would Cade think of him? A robot that left, showed minimal feelings and when they were shown, they were primarily negative, blaming his species and how the Autobots had to atone for their mistakes. How could he be able to look at him in the eye?

“Have you got everything?” That pulled Optimus back somehow to reality. Screwloose looked at the pair and with what only Optimus assumed was a nervous glow to his optics. “Optimus?” He added quickly. Optimus nodded, though it was more of an affirmation that Screwloose’s question was directed to him. “I do,” he rumbled. Grey optics blinked, slowly, pointedly focused at Optimus, seeming to trace the top of his frame. He curtly nodded, stepping closer to the last Prime, extending his hand to him. Only then did Optimus register how short this mech was to either, compared to Nightblade or himself. He was only to his elbows however, he still carried himself differently than Optimus would have expected. Tentatively, he did reach out to him and gave a firm shake. One of the few things that anyone could do as a way to show respect was a simple handshake. 

“I wish all of you safe travels.” Screwloose pulled away, waving them off. Optimus only stood there a moment before Nightblade poked him with her field. He looked at her but moved to ship after her optics pointed to get moving. He did, though much slower than he wanted. Optimus didn’t rest well the night prior, too much going through his head and far too little Energon in his tanks. So there was either a knot in his head or in his tanks, always leaving him discomforted. Sadly, he’s been too used to that feeling. And oh!—how he wanted so much to ignore it, not even for his sake. If Skyblaze noticed, Nightblade would surely notice, and she worries. Albeit too much for her own good but that has always been her way to show she cares.

She walked behind him, actually walking up the smooth entrance. He thought that was because she was carrying that box, so he didn’t think too much about it. After he walked on, the hatch folded up behind him with a hiss. “Come this way. I ain’t leavin ya in the cargo hold.” Nightblade intermingled her field with his, he turned his head to her but continued forward. 

The ship wasn’t large by any scheme of things, however extremely clean. It even had a smell of fresh cleaning wax. How’d they come across that? Did they make it? It shouldn’t surprise him, they managed to make a lot on this little red dust ball. What would stop them from making cleaning products for their ships? Well, he thought of a few things. Time, energy, material, all popped in his head as possible things that could hinder creation. They had all of those things, even the bodies to do the work. The smell of wax died away to a more burned kind of smell, like bad fuel or a bad exhaust system was implemented. More than it should have, the flaw in the system actually relaxed him. Perfection is terrifying and anyone who claims to have found something in the universe that is perfect, they are the worst kind of liars. Nothing is perfect.

“Hey, Optimus,” Nightblade called from behind him. When had he ventured farther than her? “Could you tell Sky to not fire up the engines just yet? I need to check something.” He nodded and said, “I can do that.” And kept moving. The door that lead to what he had assumed was the flight deck, looked like it was locked. It was dark and the dark red interior did not allow for much sight. Upon being a body's length away, he saw that it was only latched over. Kind of… odd to say the least. Most ships that were graded for interstellar travel had more… profound and professional ways of making sure the doors were locked. And from the inside.

Unlatching it, he pulled, it was much heavier than it looked. When he walked through, it closed on its own and the room was a now a dirt color, on the ground and walls and ceilings, though it was nice to come to a place where he could distinguish his pedes from the floor. The red femme—Skyblaze—turned from her spot in a lustless silver seat. She looked ready to just start flying. 

“Where's Night?” There was a nervous gleam to her optics, he mused. “She’s in the engine room. Asked that you don’t start the engines just yet.” Sky nodded. He walked over to the first empty seat and gingerly sat, only to jump back up again. He hoped neither of the two femmes noticed. “Cold?” One noticed. Moondancer had an upturned corner of her mouth, not quite a smirk. He turned but shrugged. 

“Did she say what she was doing?”

“Carrier, she’s probably fixing the exhaust system. It smelt, uh, kind of smoky,” Moondancer made hand motions as she spoke, indexes doing swirling motions. Skyblaze nodded again. “True. At least I hope she doesn’t make something explode. Again.” Moondancer cackled. It roused Optimus’ interest. He knew she liked being a pyrotech but he had thought that she knew what she was doing. Maybe he was mistaken? “What’d she do?”

Skyblaze nearly snorted with restrained laughter. “What did she not do? She made the first mistake in the book when it comes to wiring: never mix wire colors.”

“Glitch, I’m color blind.”

“Speak of the devil,” muttered Optimus. They were so relaxed about the situation. A complete mood shift since being on their other ship, but then again, it was them and their daughters aboard. So he really couldn’t blame them for being more mature, they had an image to uphold for their femmes. But now, with only old farts (and the oldest daughter) on a single ship, they seemed to let everything loose. 

“Oh, so I’m the glitch?” Her voice filled with mock hurt, but held an edge of mischievous, something Optimus picked up on. Nightblade for sure did, too. The door closed behind her as she sashayed up to the front, optics drawn in a line, burning into her mate. “Yes,” she whispered, stealing a red hand. “You’re my glitch.” Nightblade lifted Skyblaze, spinning her on her heels to have silver arm wrap about a red chassis. Skyblaze leaned in—

“Excuse me! PDA!” Moondancer jokingly yelled, covering her optics like she was a youngling. “They did not do a single thing,” Optimus added, though he was a little bored. They were always like this, even before the war. Nightblade sighed, unfurling her mate from her hold. Skyblaze still lingered against the silver frame a moment longer, almost remorseful. 

“Moony, deary, you’d know if we _did_ do something,” Skyblaze sniggered. She slid away from Nightblade, who thumped onto the seat that was supplementary to her mate. Then, since Nightblade and everyone was now strapped in, the red seeker powered on the engines. It was a hum that came from behind the closed door, Optimus swore he could feel the vibrations, not verbally. 

Nightblade grabbed the arm of her seat, bringing something to her mouth. “Hello, this is your co-Captain speaking. Please keep your hands, arms, legs, and head attached to your body at all times during this flight.” Moondancer looked at her oddly. “Fine. I’ll stop,” with a laugh, Nightblade did. Optimus looked now at her oddly, but with perhaps a bit more amusement than usual. 

“If a single look from your daughter stops you, you’re going to get into trouble,” he sighed, relaxing a bit into the seat. Skyblaze pushed forward on a handle, the engines hum turned to a high pitched whine. “You mean if she didn’t she’d definitely get into trouble,” the red femme added.

Skyblaze was right (that’s what you say to your mate). Before the great war for Cybertron and the rise of the use of gladiators and slaves became even more dangerous, and sadly for the pair, Nightblade being in gladiatorial combat was the primary source of their income. Since she was good, more mecha bet on her, though only receiving 1/3 of the winnings. It was much better than nothing, but it’s what caused chaos and calamity for them. 

One sorely unfortunate day was one where they had a kerfuffle. Night said that she needed to go, that they needed the credits for that cycles ration of Energon. Sky said that they could make due, that they could handle a few cycles without fuel. Nightblade went to a fight in Iacon anyway. (Well, it was in a place called the Underbelly and it held many illegal fights where those from the Council and Senate made a lot of their credits. They didn’t only steal from the common folk, they used the same poor souls to get them even more. Bloody awful.) When she was heading back, travelling through the center of the city, and found her mate split through. They don’t like to think about that time in their lives.

But times change, sometimes for the better. “Yes, yes sweetie,” Night sighed with a small smile lining her derma, clicking her restrains into place. “Let’s get going, before Screw finds a reason to keep us here.” Moondancer sniggered. Optimus didn’t notice; he was in a far off place in his mind. 

It wasn’t just a dream now, going back to Earth. There was the smallest of chances that he’d see the inventor again, but even now it was fleeting to think about. Optimus hoped that it was only five years since leaving the blue planet, though he couldn’t trust his own hardware, being frozen in space does that to someone. For all he knew, he was unconscious of everything around him for much more than five years. He didn’t even want to consider that.

But before he zoned back into reality, he could tell that they were moving now, feeling the thrusters just under the ship punch them into the vastness of space. He then felt tense. What was he tense over? He couldn’t decide, trying to let the cables in his neck loosen, letting his head fall and roll. “You okay?” Moondancer looked at him with her own head tilted to the side, not so much a concerned gleam to her optics. He rolled his head back into place and faced her, optics dulled in their hue. “I’m fine.” The biggest lies that anyone can tell, but it seemed to be enough to have her off his case.

Optimus sighed momentarily. “How long will this be?” asking no one in particular, he waited. Sky nodded half to herself as she adjusted something, making an orange light flash. “‘Bout a solar cycle, maybe a little less if we’re lucky.” An odd burn of curiosity burned in the last Prime, prompting him to ask, “Lucky about what?”

“Catching the Earth as it’s on its rotation with Sector 7, avoiding the asteroid belt, you know, avoid anything that could be a nuisance,” Skyblaze listed off. “But right now, this sucker’s on auto and I don’t know about you two but I couldn’t catch a wink last night.” She stretched her arms above her head. “I’m going to catch a couple klicks at least before we land.” As she rose something popped but she didn’t care, or didn’t seem to. “I’m coming too.” Nightblade looked relieved like ‘thank Primus she said the thing.’

“So I’ve got the controls.” Moondancer nodded, watching her creators leave, then she turned to Optimus. “You may as well relax; you look beat.” The chair creaked as she got up and traded for the captains, now looking over numerous switches that were either directed up or down. Optimus didn’t respond to her, just leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling of the dirt colored ship. His mind started tapping again, buzzing, popping, banging, making him more restless. Neither of the three would notice, he’d had too much practice with forcing down his emotions and his worries, now was no different. Unfortunately, that left him in an ever long circle of thoughts that would lead him down roads with absolutely absurd, abrupt endings. 

It’s dangerous to have done this to himself, forcing anything like these thoughts down burns to his very core. He should know this - he does know this - but still ignores its implications; absolute mental downfall. He’d seen it with Nightblade, long, long ago, yet still possessed the will to push that from his mind. It won’t be someone to destroy Optimus, it would be his own mind that would.

He heard a soft hum, not one of a melody but one more of reflection. Pulling his head back to a proper position, but when he looked to the captain’s chair, no one was there. Lifting his body after undoing the restraints, he looked around until he saw the dark blue femme looking into an open door way, beside the one to engine room. Numbly she whispered, “They’re cute. I’m glad we found sire. When we found carrier, it was awful.” Optimus just looked a moment and tentatively stepped towards her. “What was so awful about it?” he couldn’t help but asking. She slowly turned her head away, leaning against the wall. Her face was more deadpanned than her usual soft smile, numb. “We only found her spark. We had to rebuild her entire frame, there was nothing of her physically left.” _That explains why she has a different frame, color,_ Optimus thought. 

“How could you tell it was her; If there was nothing of her?” Optimus stepped closer, barely able to see a faint silhouette of the pair in the dark room. When she turned her head, he thought that he overstepped his boundaries. He didn’t. “A daughter will always know her mother. But after a frame was built, after we knew for sure, she just wasn’t the same.”

Optimus couldn’t help but feel sorry, sympathy for Skyblaze. That’s crazy that’d endured that. “How so? Besides the obvious, of course.” She turned back to him, and got off from leaning against the wall, then she walked to the front of the ship. He followed, sitting beside her as she sat in the captain’s seat. Between touching dials and adjusting things she whispered, “She denied herself fuel; she’ll never admit to it but I know she didn’t want to be alive.” That sent a cold shiver down his spine, Moondancer, too. “Because Nightblade was thought to be…” he added softly, not needing to end it. They both knew. She answered with a breathless “yes”, being reminded of the time, as if it was happening again. 

“I’m glad for them both as well.” It was a true-half lie. He was jealous he would never say that he was, especially at a moment like this. She pushed a button, the same one from earlier that pulsed orange; it was now blinking blue. “Do you have someone?” She asked out of nowhere, surprising him, taken aback. What could he say? He did have a sorta crush on Cade. Wait, he’s admitting to liking him. He tentatively brought his field closer to his frame. “He… has not accepted me.” It was indeed a half truth. But now, he’d think even more about his human friend… and accept how much he actually means to him.

“Don’t hurt yourself, patience is your best friend,” she spoke softly, turning to him with a slightly upturned corner of her mouth, only to turn back to consol. He looked down at the consol and saw a dull gray screen with a dozen little lights that decorated it. But he ignored it, thinking back on what Moondancer said, prompting him to allow curiosity to take over. “Do you?”

She paused her movement. “Oh! I never said? Yeah actually. She’s an absolute sweetie.” She smiled at the thought. Optimus gave a gentle tilt to his head. “Why aren’t you with her now?”

“She’s teaching the seekerlings to fly. Not one of these ships but to actually fly.” She shrugged, tapping something else, making it light up briefly. “Since it’s better for a seeker to learn from another, even if she’s a dual mode.”

“Dual mode? Isn’t that something you mod for?” he asked looking away a moment, noticing a slight discoloration on the wall. “Nope, just born that way!” She sounded so happy, so proud of courting this femme. Since Optimus was this deep in asking personal questions, may as well keep going. “What’s her name?” He turned back to her, eyeing the golden biolights on her face. She sniggered, did he say something funny? “Slag, I didn’t say. Her designation is Vinyl; she’s actually Screw’s daughter.” Now it was Optimus’ turn to snigger, well, more of a snerk. “I thought that Screwloose would be like—I mean this in the best way—like Magnus.”

“Even that weirdo is courting someone.”  
“Who?”  
“Take a shot.”  
“Prowl?”

She physically placed a hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter. “Oh, Primus, no! We don’t need two by-the-book mechs!”  
“Who then?”

After she composed herself, she sat up, sighed a final laugh. “Firestar. She was one of Elita’s squadron.” He leaned back, optics cycling closed. “I don’t believe I have met her, or at least not long enough for it to matter,” he sighed. There were gentle tinks coming from the back of the room. He wasn’t sure if she heard but he didn’t really care what or more precisely who made it. He just stayed there. 

“What’s this I am hearing? Magy is courting someone and never said?” A warm alto rang out, making her words sound more like a song than something of distress. Optimus let his head fall again down, turning his body halfway to sit sideways in the seat. “How long were you listening?” Moon asked as she spun in the seat, wrapping her legs around the back. Nightblade slowly walked out of the back of the room, lazily resting her head on Skyblaze’s shoulder, servos just sliding around the slender red waist. She didn’t push her away. “Long enough to find out that Magnus is courting FIrestar,” she stated with tired finality, turning her head to the silver femme resting on her shoulder. “Why aren’t you acting surprised?

Nightblade sighed with a soft laugh, sliding closer from behind. “Love, he told us not too long ago. I don’t remember if you were inebriated or something but he did say.” She breathed a moment, just thinking, catching a whiff of some the wax that was on her fiery mate before they left. The smell still lingered vaguely. Nightblade added softly to her daughter, “Moon, sweetie, stop gossiping about your brother, even if it’s about who he’s courting.” The two slid fluidly to a seat, Night keeping her red femme against her frame. Moondancer let her head fall, an odd smile lined her face. “Sire, it’s not like it’s going to hurt anything. They’re sweet for each other and seem happy.”

The calm was interrupted by what Optimus assumed was a collision proximity alarm, which should have worried him but it just didn’t seem to register. Nevertheless, he still asked, though with a uniquely numb feeling in his systems. “We’re getting close, just passing Earth’s moon,” Moondancer commented. Skyblaze almost hesitantly left Nightblade’s lap and poked at Moon, getting her to move. “Strap in, it may get turbulent when we enter the atmosphere.”

“How much longer?” Optimus asked, sounding much like a youngling. Nightblade couldn’t help but give a sad smile, gently ushering him to the seat behind her. (Only because she wasn’t sure if he could fly this and didn’t want to necessarily put any more stress on any of them. Him especially.) She took her seat and adjusted something quickly. “About 7 klicks. Any faster we could burn or be spotted as we enter the atmosphere.”

“This is about as incognito as it gets,” said Nightblade. 

“You two don’t know how to be incognito,” Moondancer flippantly stated. “Hush child,” Night directed to Moon. “I’m fully grown,” Moondancer continued her flippant tone. 

“You’re still apart of this family,” Skyblaze retorted. “Damn. No return policy?” Moon slapped her knee.

Optimus sighed, with amusement in his field, now that he let it away from his frame. He strapped in with a final click. “Not with them,” he uniquely joked, to which he did not anticipate a serious response. “You're part of the family, too,” from Skyblaze. For everything that he had a hand in, he glad enough to say that he was around these mecha.

“Entering the atmosphere now.” The statement made him realize even more so they were going to Earth. That he was going to Earth. It was just getting started now, but shouldn't raise so much hope to see Cade. He probably wouldn't want to see him again. Optimus had left _him_.


	18. Chapter 18

He purposely avoided going outside, though not because of what he saw with Crosshairs and Drift. It was getting colder out and he didn’t want to, not like he really needed to anyway. He had what little he needed to survive. Joshua had sent out small shipments to his property bringing food and little trinkets, ones he’d never use on a usual day, some money. If anything, Joshua had being practically paying for Cade’s living expenses. But after five years, he just was used to it.

Right now, he sat upside down on the recliner, head where his feet should have been. It was actually comfortable for his back even with his blood rushing to his head, but then again, it wasn’t the smartest position an old man should be in. Dirty, week old socks clung to his ankles as he adjusted to have his bum square with the back of the recliner and feet dangle off the back. This had become a common spot for him since he started staying inside, instead of hiding away inside of his barn.

His quiet dwellings were interrupted by a thump at the door. He couldn’t tell who it was but stayed there. “Yeah?” He yelled from his upside down state. When the mecha on the other side spoke he knew exactly who it was, though it sounded warmer than usual but with a hint of something that Cade couldn’t place. “Hey, there’s something going on not too far from here. Throw on that television of yours.” He groaned, half letting himself slide and half falling out of the chair. His shoulders scraped the wooden floor and he grimaced when his tailbone hit the ground. “What’s wrong with your radio? Can’t you listen in?” he asked as he slowly lifted his body. He swore when his hip popped. Hound hummed, or growled, Cade again wasn’t sure. As he walked over to the kitchen (because that’s where the remote was) he looked out the window beside the front door. The large gray mech looked at him with old and weary optics. “I would but, like, it’s static. Something’s jammin’ it,” he stated blandly.

Cade groaned and continued to find the remote. Just as he thought, on the island in the center of everything with the small, insignificant box with buttons. Funny how something so small could be important, or if at all useful for anything. (Though, the Author admits that she’s little weirded out that she called a remote a ‘box with buttons’; perhaps she’s a little terrified as well. What is this world coming to?! Ignore that child… she digresses.)

He took it and returned to his still warm seat, sitting on the edge. It buzzed to life, showing the company logo before doing anything else. As it hung from the wall, he still had to wait for the cable box to power on, too. It certainly took its time booting up, causing the screen to go black and a blue cube in the corner saying what station it was on. Apparently, it was still on the news.

There was a man that looked rather burly, dark skin with dark, trusting eyes, with straight up black hair, who was in a clean looking room. When Cade read the bottom of the screen it started to make even less sense: Space Center Houston. What the hell’s going on? He turned it up so it wasn’t just a mumble on the other side of the room. “-believe that you’ve spotted a UFO?” the man asked. The camera panned over to the one being interviewed. The absolute definition of nerd that still lives with his mother, thick glasses with messy brunette hair, who seemed a bit ruffled. “We b-believe so, yes! The object entered the atmosphere estimated about s-six hours ago,” he stuttered. Six hours ago? “Is it safe to assume that the debris could be anywhere?”

“No, Mr. Spilgele. Based solely on when my t-team saw it enter, and how it correlated with everything, it should be landing somewhere along the border of New Mexico and Texas.” The man looked shocked, continuing to eye him. Even Cade was transfixed to what this person (who was probably fresh out of the engineering program) was about to say. “It does not look like it is of this world.”

What neither the reporter, the kid, or Cade expected was clusters of men dressed in black, to tackle the kid down. The reporter was next, but he ran. And the Camera Guy followed until he was forced down, too, breaking the video feed. There were not initials for anything to identify them. No CIA. No FBI. No NSA. Nothing. “What the shit?” There was a moment of yelling before it was completely cut, redirecting to a woman in a dogtooth blazer whose face was in looking on in horror. “And now let’s go to break!” She practically squealed, terror in her eyes. The news was now going to be on a continuous commercial break.

He turned it off, no sense in listening to commercials for things he doesn’t need or care about. “Hound! Was that what you were talking about?” He walked towards the door, it squeaked on its hinges and thunked back. “What the hell’s happening out there?”

Drift and Crosshairs came up closer to the house, now in front of Cade. Bumblebee loomed by the tree that was close to his porch. Crosshairs sighed, looking at his gun, giving it a twirl in his hand. “Well Cade, ya did hear that it wa’n’t Earthly,” Crosshairs said, looking from his gun to the fleshling. No, no, he caught it the first time the kid said it. There was something that undeniably pulsed deep inside him, along with his heart. He almost couldn't believe what he was hoping, or that it could be possible at all. Could Optimus be coming back? Be back?

“For all we know, Crosshairs, the chances that it's an Autobot ship is slim,” Drift added, quickly deflating the mood. Hound turned, a teal glare directly pointed to the green mech. “By damnit! It could be him! Don’t make me crack a grenade down your throat,” he threatened while leaning into the blue and gold car. Crosshairs looked just unamused at the pair, growling. He forcefully shoved Hound back which startled Cade. 

“Guys! Guys!” he voice was drowned out, overpowered by Bumblebee. “Don’t make threats you can’t go through with,” each word articulated by different radio stations, but there was a certain static going through, making him sound hoarse. Drift did not waver at the remark from the former wrecker, never even flinched. He seemed to merely wave him off, not even touching his swords that dangled from his hips. “I only said that the possibility was slim, not impossible.” Hound still looked steamed, Cade mused; he did calm himself. Cade moved closer to the house, just away from too much action if it happened.  
“We can’t fight like this! It could be more ‘Cons or Optimus,” Cade yelled. “We just don’t know yet.” Though he hated to admit that, there was still a strong possibility that it was more ‘Cons. The fancy fangled ‘Transformium’-alloyd aft of Megatron had been quiet as of late, virtually since Optimus left. It did not mean that he was gone from the Earth. (That little tidbit sucked.)

“C’mon now, listen to Cade. Why’s it that he’s the most calm right now?” _I’m calm because I don’t know what to think Crosshairs,_ he thought dryly. He couldn’t help but to just stand there wondering what they’d have to do, beit if it were more Decepticons or for the small possibility that this ship did have Optimus on board. They could not just banter back and forth over nothing! Fighting over what may or may not be is idiotic and will not solve any problems. However, would they do all of that? Yes, yes they would.

A hoarse growl came from Hound, a sound that Cade had scarcely heard ever from the former Wrecker. “Wha’ you thinkin’ then? We can’t just sit here an’ wait for whoever’s there to come and find us,” he spoke with a puff of smoke from his bullet-cigar-thing. Cade still wasn’t quite sure how that would work, but ignored it; it wasn’t what was important at the moment. The human stepped forward, crossing his arms over his torso. “I don’t know! I don’t know, but we can’t just fight with ourselves!” One hand went from his chest to rest on his temple. “We have to be ready if that ship has more ‘Cons.” He stopped, waiting, watching, and a little astonished that he managed to quiet these mecha.

“What do you suggest we do then?” popped from Bumblebee, calm compared to everyone else. Cade stood there a moment again, dully looking away towards the road. Could it really hurt to look? Maybe. But did they really have anything to lose? The answer is yes. He still had his daughter and he doesn’t want to die because they—he—wasn’t prepared to fight a force of an army. They were no more ready now than he was. He may still have his ‘alien gun’ however, every time he looked at it, it reminded him of dangling from that building, of nearly getting shot by Attinger, of nearly being stabbed by Lockdown. He wasn’t sure if he’d able to function properly with a weapon if put into the situation. He’d do it if Tessa was in danger; he knew he would.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He really was stuck. “If we go-”

“It would be us going, Cade,” Drift interrupted, Crosshairs gave him a sidelong look, unsurprised. “We would not wish to put you in danger, as Optimus would have wanted.” Cade felt his breath catch in his throat, part of him hoped that no one noticed. Bumblebee nodded, adding softly: “He wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” the static in his voice seemed to fade. Cade felt his chest heave, something there that he wasn’t sure what to call it, made his heart and head pound. Both of his hands now at his sides, eyes boring up into blue and gold Bugatti. “I can ‘fend for myself, thank you,” reply sarcastic, he did not bother to hide his irritation. “Besides, what makes you think that?”

“Because he told us to protect your family,” he responded, deadpan. Cade sighed with a growing knot in his stomach. He needed to see for himself if this was Optimus. Then he got an idea. “Even if you go, and I go, and I’m there, you’d still be there to protect me.” There was a certain prideful feeling he was starting to feel, he just kept going. “You know you can’t protect me if you leave me here.”

He saw Crosshairs cover his face with a hand, not sure if it was because Cade wouldn’t be deterred or something. Until the green mech just started to laugh. “You’ll ride with me then.” There were gaped faces, one that looked particularly ticked at Crosshairs. There was a heat and an excitement that filled Cade from his shoeless feet up to the weird curl of his hair on his head. “We go in the morning.” It was time to get ready and he would be completely ready, beit for an onslaught of Decepticons or for what he hoped for most, the return of Optimus Prime.


	19. Chapter 19

“You are never allowed to be my co-pilot, ever again.” Red wings flared warningly to her mate who flinched with her optics. “I’m sorry. Forgive me for not _seeing_ the ground proximity sensor.” She lifted herself from the seat, the belt making a sharp click when it went back into place on the underside of the seat. “We didn’t crash,” Moondancer added, attempting to cool her carrier’s temper. She received a scolding glare instead; so much for that approach.

Optimus only unclicked himself, mindlessly beginning to move about the cabin. They’re on Earth. He’s on Earth. His spark pulsed hard inside its casing, feeling particularly hot beat go against the Matrix. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling but he was no stranger to pain of any sort. War does that. So he ignored that scratching heat and walked towards the door to the engine room, only standing there.

“I’ve got connections here,” Nightblade popped. “If we just go out willy-nilly there’s gonna be some very heavy fire power coming towards us.” It was not directed towards him. Optimus turned back to face the three femmes, listening to them start to conversate quickly. He took a tentative step forward. “Who are these connections?” They three stopped at the sound of his baritone. The silver femme straightened. “A couple generals, a couple former presidents, a commander for here and there.” He raised a brow at the vague comment. When had she gotten to know people for higher positions? Hell, when had she been on Earth to forge these kinds of connections? But he knew he could trust her so he did not her question as to how, however, he knew that wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it. At least he’d be thinking about something other than the past that he’d caused on the blue planet.

He watched as she waved a single finger in front of her lips. Optimus gave her a curious gleam, optics narrowed. They three waited until she started talking, but he completely started back into his head. He tried to focus primarily on their _mission._

In search of the Knights’ Terminus, which, that would be the easy part. Figuring out what was causing the odd signals, that would most likely be just as simple as finding the ship, thus, finding out what -- or rather who is causing the signals. But what’d be the point? It wasn’t something that mattered to him, not right now. The one human, well, three humans but primarily this one human mattered most. He wondered why Cade still lingered in the back of his mind. He still wondered how this man was, and if he still maybe thought about him.

Cade and his daughter probably don’t even like him, or even care that he’d been gone. That little thought made his spark stab against his casing, adding to the ache that was already there. Optimus did not wish to believe that, that Cade did not care. But he knew that it was a long shot to even consider that they didn't hate him for leaving.  
And his Autobots. He left them too. He turned away from the femmes, optics dimmed with his pained consideration. He betrayed them. He left them to fend for themselves. He ordered them to stay and protect Cade and his family. How would even they look to him now? Simple answer: they won't. They were not all too happy to see him again those years ago. Hound sounded jovial and listened to him, but he was a Wrecker, and Wreckers were loyal to their cause. And he practically betrayed his cause for something he wasn't sure existed. Maybe he hoped it existed—those Creators, so that he may end their turmoil with him, one less war to have to fight on the same and ever-growing battlefield.

But he was wrong, wasting what little resources he had acquired and squandered them to search for nothing more than an essence amongst the stars. His frame began to heat, optics downcast as his realizations continued to stab him in his own spark. Damn these feeling or regret -- guilt! He didn't mean any of this to go this far! He… just wanted to help.

His armor flared, allowing some heat to dissipate without the embarrassment of clicking his fans on, but even the air on the ship wasn't much help. Optimus didn't want to focus on what was occurring with the quiet whirr that seemed to be coming from just outside of the ship. “That would be them now,” Nightblade stated; he didn't turn to see her expression. She'd know he was thinking too hard, over analyzing again if she only saw his optics. They all waited a moment more, all the while Optimus was only wanting to just stay away -- from humans and sadly, from them too. Maybe this was a bad idea coming down here again. It only brought forth emotions that he didn't want to feel so deep curl around his spark, a feeling he tried dearly to ignore.

“Who is ‘them’?” Optimus asked, avoiding—or trying to avoid—his thoughts that were still tormenting him. He waited and watched Moondancer mess about with something on the console. “They, our friend, is a disbanded group of the U.S. government: known as Sector Seven,” Skyblaze answered, although creating more questions than answers. “‘Disbanded,’” he repeated flatly. He did not have fond memories or experiences with this group. They, of course, were the group that tried to freeze Bumblebee, to experiment on him. Sector Seven did, however, manage to freeze Megatron, giving him a new name then, too. But even they failed to keep him forever at bay.

He pulled his field close against his frame. “I don't believe it is wise for me to leave.” The three looked at him oddly, so he clarified, “even here I have a price on my head.” Nightblade nodded. “That can be dealt with at another point,” Skyblaze stated confidently. Oh! And if only she knew what he'd done to this planet… she wouldn't want anything to do with him. None of them would and he knew it.

“Sire has enough contacts—I'm sure there'd be at least one that could help.” The dark blue femme smiled. Optimus’ systems heat did cool, allowing him to relax his paneling back into place. Nightblade snerked, “Don't fuss, it'll all be dealt with. I have Simmons wrapped around my little digit.”

He remembered him; he was the one Bumblebee lubricated on. (Not too long after that the Witwicky child explained that it was in reference to Mojo peeing on Ironhide. Those thoughts began to cause the ache to grow in his chest.) “Seymour Simmons,” he breathed, words not directed towards anyone in particular.  
“I take it that two have met before,” Nightblade commented.

“You may say that.”

“Is he the one that placed a price on you?” Moondancer inquired. At the moment he wanted nothing more than for this to be over and done with. But he wasn't going to lie, he was too tired to want to keep up with an alternative story; he already lied by not saying that he left his Autobots earthbound.

“No,” he slowly replied. “It was a man known as Harold Attinger.”

“CIA operative. Absolutely despised working with the fanatic.” It was now Optimus’ turn to give her an odd, quizzical gleam to his dimmed optics. She sighed. “To make a long story short: I worked in the American government for a time. Made a few internal enemies and allies along the way; he just happened to be an enemy of mine, for reasons I won't discuss.” Apparently, she could feel the burn of her mate’s optics on her. She turned to Skyblaze, whose optics are absolutely unrelenting in their firmness. “I'll explain it to you later.”

In the silence that followed, Nightblade flinched, throwing – again – a single digit up, and then making something click with the other. “Talk to me.” Optimus could faintly hear someone talking on the other side. This was not a standard Comm. Link; they were more secure, much quieter. Every other pause on the line she'd reply, sounding very short, dry even.

“Good. Make sure everyone's clear on that. I don't want to deal with that sort of publicity and neither do you,” tone bland and statement just as. The person on the other side squeaked something quickly and Night clicked something again.

“Time to power those things on.” Optimus just stared, unsure what she was referring to. She noticed. “I didn't get to install yours, did I?” It was more of a statement than a question as she walked over to the door beside him, before turning back and saying, “Go on! Get ready.” He was still confused but shrugged it off best he could. She didn't come back quickly.

He slowly angled his head back to see that the other two femmes were going into their vehicle modes. Skyblaze had obviously been to Earth before, a sleek biplane. Moondancer, on the other hand, had an older style of alt mode, one that looked like the last frame he saw her in about 50 million years ago. But something that he did not expect was for either to have something materialize inside of them, taking the form of a human. This… was certainly a curious way for things to turn.

Nightblade returned with a click of the door. “Optimus.” He turned to draw his focus back onto the gray femme. “This,” she said while holding up a simple looking data sheet. “Is what I was talking about. It allows you to have a solid holo avatar at any point.” He gave her another look, though his interest did peak. “Where would this be installed?”  
“Just as simple as welding it to your wrist.” _Simple,_ he thought lamely, momentarily looking back to the other mechanisms in the room. “You said you had a price on your head, right? This would be the best bet for those who you’ve met to not know you in the very instant you step off ship,” she explained her reasoning confidently, rolling the little flat device over her knuckles. He had to agree, it would certainly allow for better privacy - for lack of a better word, and would allow for him in a way to start over. It only sounded a little too good to be true. “Do what you must.”

She did by gently grabbing his hand and popping open the armor that covered his under arm. He paid little attention until she brought out a welder, something he knew that bothered her, although it did not show in her field. The heat was almost welcome to his bare protoform that was hidden there, welcome in the fact that it reminded him that he could be allowed to feel something so simple, and still yet, not so foreign. Her movement precise, a bit slower than he would have thought possible for her but mentally he digressed. He felt her press it against the exposed protoform, feeling her go around the data sheet with the welder. _It couldn’t be that much longer,_ he thought; he could swear that he could hear his thoughts begin to echo around like his head was a hollow thing. _Odd._

“You can close up,” she informed and he did not hesitate, closing back with a soft click. He twisted his arm, ignoring the ache that the welder had caused. “Now go and test it out. I don't want it to malfunction while we are outside.” She tapped his shoulder and fell into place, she hissed as her t-cog engaged. He looked down at her now, in her Terran mode. “How do I use this… thing?” He vaguely could guess that it was a holomizer but still, he hadn't had one installed prior. Even when he first got to Earth, he hadn't needed nor wanted it; especially since he and his Autobots were stationed Diego Garcia where the humans already knew of their existence, and their alliance between Prime and President of the nation.

Her door opened down where his feet were and a woman with dark, chocolate colored skin and black curled hair in a gray skirted suit peered up. “Transform. There's one little data pack that will pop up as an option. Open it.” _Blunt, as always,_ he mused but did as she instructed and did find that DP that she referred to. But he wasn't so sure about what popped up next: _customization?_

“Choose something you like,” Skyblaze peeped from behind him, as a tan woman with auburn hair. He looked over the options. Of each category, it had subgroups for each, smaller details. Skin tone, eye color, height, and so forth. The default on the left side of the screen almost looked like Cade, he thought. All except the eyes and hair, much too blond and eyes much too square to look quite like him. He had to shake the thought away: he wouldn’t be seeing him again. He knew it. He changed everything a little, seemingly never satisfied.

“Are you having fun? You’ve been sitting there silent for 5 minutes,” Moondancer joked, although to him it sounded more of an accusation than something of humor. Skyblaze gave her the same stern look from when they landed, almost like she didn’t find the humor in it either. “Let him be thorough. We have time.”

“Actually, we do have to keep a sort of tight schedule.” Nightblade swung around something small, just to draw attention to it, all to then fling it over to Skyblaze. “Be as it may, let him have a minute.”

Optimus wasn’t even paying attention to them, just flipping through the options, senselessly. Ultimately he barely changed anything from the default, but they wouldn’t need to know that he sat there and thought about what to change and didn’t do anything. They’d be disappointed that he wasted their time.

He continued with his chosen look, accepting the little changes. There was a heat that formed in his cab, and before he knew it, he was looking at his steering wheel. He touched it, not quite sure what he had expected to find from his silent inspection. All that Optimus knew is now he knows why Cade always held the wheel: the leather was surprisingly soft.

“Well, don’t you look suave!” Moondancer’s holoform tapped at his window, all the while hanging onto his frames side. When had she gotten on? He didn’t notice. What he did notice for the moment that his eyes caught her was that she looked nothing like her creator’s. (Their holoforms, everyone looked very much different.) Eyes bright and lined with blue and gold makeup, stuff, just like her frame. Gold under and blue over her eyes, it wasn’t anything he was used to seeing. Optimus wasn’t one to choose something to adorn his facial features and he was not well informed on makeup or decals. (The Author doesn’t know very much about makeup either… Oops.) Though, even he admitted that it looked nice.

Optimus did not respond. He grabbed the handle after it clicked unlocked, Moondancer dropped down. “So.” Skyblaze sauntered forward. “How are you feeling?” He slid down and flicked the door closed. He wobbled a little as his first moment that his feet were on the ground. “Odd,” he staley replied. Optimus allowed himself to have a hand on the side of his hood, a little unnerved by being so small. He looked down at his hand, seeing all the lines that ran from the side of his palm to the other, from the bottom to the top, curving up or down. They certainly didn’t feel soft like he thought humans would feel. He felt rough, dry, like if he had a match he could light it. Very unnerving.

“Okay. Since everyone is done, let’s get a couple little things done. Since our names are… so to say, odd, in human terms, let’s make sure we have something that would resemble a human's.” Optimus looked over at Nightblade and turned his head to Moondancer when she groaned. Nightblade moved closer, so that he could hear, and added: “We have to have an alias. Remember, we are not exactly welcome at the moment.”

Optimus felt himself growl, something deep inside his chest. “That would be my fault.” Nothing she could say would make him believe otherwise. He brought the war to Earth and in the end, Earth paid the price. “Fault or not, a matter of privacy is important.” Skyblaze, auburn hair bounced as she came even closer, patting his arm. It was supposed to be reassuring but felt more like a thing of pity.

“Well, then for the sake of ease, I guess, why don’t we just do our nicknames? That’s gotta sound vaguely human,” Moondancer suggested, black bangs falling over one of her eyes.

His focus faded from them and to the situation that awaited them all. He couldn’t say he was pleased to be seeing Simmons again, however, he was a help when the time came. Well, he was certainly more help to the children. It was nice to meet them, but there was a large part of him that was saddened by the fact that by his presence on their world, he had placed them in danger. Unknowingly in danger and they couldn’t have done a single thing to amend for it. All but too late for them to back down or out of the coming fire that came with being an ally of Autobots and their cause. But, he hoped that Megatron wouldn’t attack younglings, children. Optimus had hoped… and hoped wrong.

“That’s decided then,” Nightblade peeped. “Have you thought what you’re going to go by?” He knew that she was referring to him. He nodded, although it was a lie. He hadn’t thought about it at all, but knew what he could say. “Pax,” he assured blankly. She nodded with a crinkle to her eyes. “Let's get out then. We have work to get done,” he added with conviction, ignoring the trepidation that heavily built its way into his chest.


	20. Chapter 20

For a first, in a while, Cade actually slept in his bed, rested and prepared for the mission at hand: go to the landing site and figure out who’s there. He couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the whole ordeal. How much chance could it be that that ship carried that one important mech? He wasn’t sure but one thing he could be sure of was that this was the most optimistic he’d been. Part of him knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up so high, especially so early in the morning. 

He showered but skipped the shave, it was only enough to wake him up. There wasn’t any coffee so it was the only natural way to wake up. He didn’t care about that and only made sure he was ready. 

Hound tapped at his bedroom window, something he had grown accustomed to. He didn’t even care that he was only in his boxers. “Ya ‘bout ready?” The former Wrecker stood there, kind of watching Cade and kind of looking about his room from the angle he was at. Cade pulled his pants over his hip and buttoned them. “Almost. When I’m dressed I’ll be ready to go.” He threw over plain black long sleeve shirt. “How about you guys? All ready?” Cade asked as his head popped out, quietly eyeing the cigar-bullet-thing Hound had between his lips. _Do robots have lips?_ He digressed. 

Slightly green optics narrowed at him. “Bumblebee went into town, said that he’d be back ‘fore we leave.” Cade nodded, grabbing his sneakers, faded from gray to a dirty almost brown gray. It’s not like he’s gone shoe shopping in awhile, there wasn’t really a point to it. Not for him. If they still fit, he’d wear ‘em. “Did he say what he was doing?” He fluffed up his hair, long strands slipped between his hands to fall back onto his face. Had his hair really grown that long? So it had, as it would seem.

Hound hummed but did not answer right away, looking behind him a moment, catching a glimpse of Drift and Crosshairs, never, however, catching what they were saying. “Kid don’t talk much, especially since the Tessa thing happened,” he explained, looking back to the human. Cade sighed, double checking his pants and quietly found his fly down. He knew that Tessa had overreacted but that didn’t stop her. She didn’t want anything to do with them, even him. He hadn’t talked to her since. Shane had said that she’s cooled down but that didn’t make him rush to her, or her to him for anything that vaguely appeared to be an apology .

That reminded him, Shane was still at the house. Even if it had been a few weeks, perhaps a month since the whole ordeal. They three needed to make amends to each other and when that’s done, make good with the other bots. She hadn’t exactly been kind. Cade wasn’t sure what brought any of it about, why she had gotten so… just rude. A part of him wanted to apologize for her behavior but he knew that he didn’t have a good reason to write it off, so he didn’t. “I don’t get it Hound. She wasn’t ever like that,” his voice lowered as he approached the window. “Like this. She was so sweet,” he clarified. His fingers digging into the curtains, soft and barely touched, sun bleached blue. Or maybe that was the light from Hound’s optics that made the blue stand out. Either way, that didn’t really matter. 

“People change, Cade. Even those you love most,” the Wrecker sounded sad, dull, like there was something like resignation in his tone. He must know the feeling personally, Cade mused.

Behind them, the brightening morning, Bumblebee’s lights cut through the dark. “There’s Bee,” Cade caught himself saying aloud. Hound turned back only enough to give the scout a sidelong glance. “Everyone’s ‘ere, might as well get rollin’.” Cade took the hint, grabbing the bag he readied himself for the journey. (Even if it wasn’t such a long one, may as well be prepared for whatever may come.) And made his way out, walking out of his room and down the stairs.

The lights down on floor level were not on, in a word, odd. Lucky Charms almost always had to have half the house lit up in the morning: a year-round Christmas tree. Except, this was a house and lacked the tree. It wasn’t his house but it’s not like Cade cared that much either way if he was here or not. Since what happened five years ago, running from the CIA and the whole thing in China, he grew on him. Not to mention he told Cade the truth about Tessa being booted from campus. (Cade was still quite steamed about that, but at least the truth came out. Even if it wasn’t from her.)

“Shane?” he warily called out. “You’re here, right?” No answer. He walked towards the kitchen, nothing was on, not even the coffee maker. Even flipping the light on left more questions than answers. There was a note on the fridge, blocky writing but some words were smudged. Cade assumed it was from Shane; it’s not like Tessa would have left him a note, he would have known. It wasn’t really her style. 

Being careful not to tear the paper, he plucked it with the tape still attached from the fridge. The note read: _Cade, Bumblebee is taking me to my sister’s house. I’m going to talk to Tess. If you need me, you’ve got my number._

Cade nodded to himself before throwing the white note down on the counter. “That explains it,” he grumbled. It was probably for the best. If he could talk to Tessa, she may come to understand where Cade was coming from and what that all entailed. If he could do that, that would be wonderful, and for the best, really. He wanted her to understand.

Maybe Optimus went through something like this with Bumblebee. He had mentioned something about Bumblebee having to learn respect and all that. Oh, now Cade thought about that hulking frame of a mech. True, he was lovely to look at, but now Cade only had his memory to reflect on how those optics looked at _him_. Those posters that screamed _ENEMY_ or _ALIEN_ would never give Cade the same shiver down his spine.

With any luck at all, that ship help Optimus. Maybe it had more soldiers that could fight! Cade trusted that Hound, Drift, Crosshairs, and Bumblebee could defend themselves, but… even now, they were not safe. Not in the slightest. But this was a moment of calm in their storm, best now to ride the waves and move as swiftly as they can. It’s all that they could do, wait for the wind to break again and make them wish they stayed on shore.

These years apart, they do make the heart grow fonder. He sighed with a dumb smile on his lips. Cade did have a crush; he had fallen for the mech, time and time again. There was little use in denying the fact. He’s in love. 

Oh! He can daydream when they’re on the road. Cade walked out and turned the light back off, and left the house. The sun was still partially hidden under the horizon, best that they’d get moving. The sooner that they’re gone, the quicker they can get back. Plus, they right now can’t be arrested at his property, one of perks of Joshua pay for the bills and shit. In a way, he owns it and that makes it company property. 

Just beyond the porch, Crosshairs waited for him. Of course, he was going to be Cade’s ride. “Ya done wastin’ time?” The comment from the green caped mech made Cade smile. The blunt nature of Crosshairs had grown on him, too, vaguely reminding him of an old uncle he used to venture to when he was younger. He continued down the stairs. 

“Are you done standing around?” his reply was filled with snark, and he could have sworn that he saw the faintest of smirks on Crosshairs’ face. Without hesitation from the green mech, he growled: “Let’s roll.” He rolled his engines, which, even Cade found he liked how low they went. It wasn’t Optimus but -- Oh! He’s thinking about him again. 

“We’re losing the night light.” Cade hopped in right as the door popped open for him. Okay, so Crosshairs could be civil with the man. The door came back with a crash. Drift followed along, plates sliding into place, clanks and hisses coming not only from him but Hound and Bumblebee as well. Cade turned to see out of the back window, headlights came on and their cabs darkened. 

“‘Ope you got ever’thing Cade. We won’t be stoppin’.” The man couldn’t help but feel giddy as he slung his bag over to the passenger seat. He patted the wheel, like what he did in Optimus’ cabin. “Won’t be a problem.”

Crosshairs did a final hard revv, to wit Cade wasn’t sure was so necessary but did not say anything about it. It’s not like he was driving. No sense in pissing trigger-happy off. 

_Actually, who’s more trigger-happy?_ Hound does tend to threaten (sometimes) to shove a grenade down either Drift’s throat (usually for saying something philosophical that Hound didn’t care to listen to anyway) or Crosshairs’ when he says something either against Optimus or Cade. While Crosshairs acts like he knows all and is the be-all-be-end-all for any situation, and he did wave around his guns a lot. 

Generally they could all be rather brash. But that could certainly come from them not having a commanding officer keeping them straight. Bumblebee was great and all, but he’s still young, and at times immature. Crosshairs always seemed to be more like an anarchist, follow long enough to become his own thing. Well, Drift has kept him along the straight and narrow, as much as a former Decepticon could. He hasn’t done too bad himself.

Drift lead the way on the road and everyone followed without order. ::Let’s stay on the back roads. Less people,:: He came over the radio. Hound didn’t respond, just metal to the pedal. Bumblebee gave a ::Roger! Roger!:: which sounded like one of those characters from Star Wars. And off they all went.

Cade couldn’t help but think about the possibilities even more, about who they were going to see and who they were going to have to fight. Should he be so excited and have a pit grow in his stomach? Maybe not but that did not stop it from growing. His trepidation and excitement – if he hadn’t been paying attention – would’ve made his body shake. 

But one thing’s for sure, after they trekked through the back roads for perhaps an hour, Crosshairs spoke up. “You’ve been real quiet, Cade.” The man hummed. “You’re usually muttering somethin’, no sitting silent.” He waited for his passenger to say something. 

“Don’t tell me you’re dead. I don’t want to be carryin’ a dead man along for nothing.” Cade thought it was kind of a funny comment and only chuckled, readjusting in the seat to sitting up. “I’m not dead yet.”

“You sure? You’re being hecking quiet,” Crosshairs persisted, driving in line with Drift. 

Cade sighed because he knew he was; he knew. He hadn’t made a peep and it was all because he was thinking again. And at this point, they were friends, and friends deserved the truth, so Cade told him. Crosshairs didn’t respond quickly, just kept his pace on the back roads. God knows they were going faster than they should’ve been going but the sun was only passed the horizon. And who cares about it? No-one was on the road. 

“We’ll all see what or who it is soon ‘nough,” Crosshairs said finally. Cade just hoped it was that one mech.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead and this is not dead.... HI THERE ENOY THIS JUNK

It was quiet and Optimus was sitting in his cabin, just going between looking at the holomation to the internal mechanics of his actual frame. Although he had this particular frame for a couple years, that did not mean that he was fully knowing of what all existed within the tight space. The soft leather on the steering wheel to the soft fabric interior, even though he was old, to him it was a new thing he found about himself that he liked. 

Even with this fresh wave of something positive -- optimistic energy, it did not feel like it would last. It never did. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to last or to go back to the dull way it used to be. Oh who was he kidding, the way it was somewhere he could never be. Cybertron was gone, dead. And Cade…

Cade, he didn’t know if the man was still alive! But he wasn’t so old in human years, he wasn’t seriously hurt during the fight with Lockdown or before that. Optimus just was not sure. And if he was— _is_ —alive, would he even want to see him again? Optimus had left so suddenly after the fight, never really sure if that battle was completely won. He landed his head on the wheel, appalled at himself. He gripped the bottom of the wheel hard. Although it did nothing for what he’s done, it almost felt reassuring, something he could hold onto. There were so many things he had – mecha he loved – stolen away, this one solid thing seemed to latch onto him so strongly since everything.

“Why did this happen?” he groused to no-one but to himself. There was no-one to listen to him even if he were speaking directly to another; they were getting ready to investigate the Terminus. He already was regretting coming with Nightblade. She and her family worked so well together, joked well together, and he really didn’t belong there to begin with. He dropped his head against the wheel again, a little harder than he should have. It was enough to make his head feel like it made an echo. 

A gentle knock went against his window, he only moved his eyes to see who it was: a dark woman with coal hair. “Nightblade,” he sighed, not loud enough to be heard. She still stood there on his rim as she held onto the handle beside his driver’s door. 

“We’re about ready to go. How much fuel have you got?” Optimus lifted his head from the wheel and stared at the fuel gauge. He sighed softly and rolled down the window. “A third of a tank.” It wasn’t quite a lie but it was much closer to being empty than that. Not that she could see what it actually said, it was not at a good angle for her to tell. 

“I want you to have a cube. No burnouts for you, certainly not today, friend.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Gently shaking his head back and forth and told her to “get off.” She did, and he deholomized his avatar. His t-cog hissed as his frame swiveled into place.

“Damn, I forget how frelling huge you are, especially from down here.” Optimus heard her chuckle. He looked down at her, and without much care plucked her up. “But I hadn't forgotten how small you are, as a human.” Fingers holding her between the shoulders, bunching up the fabric on the avatar, she went limp like a kitten being taken by its mother. 

“But that doesn't mean I like being picked up!” She snapped, crossing her arms, her sleeves bunching up at the elbow. Optimus quirked his brow. “Now, you must understand that I don't much like it either.”

“But you're so light.” She blinked slowly. “It's so easy to lift you.” He couldn't help but roll his optics, and shook his head. He thought about dropping down on the floor but thought against it, still holding her between two fingers. “And you were -- _were_ smaller than me,” she grumbled while she turned her head away. 

“Is this you admitting you liked picking me up?” The Prime almost allowed himself to snickered.

“I will admit nothing.” He slightly smirked. She never did like to admit to anything she did or did not do, seemed that part of her still resided. Optimus hummed, he dropped her to his other hand that was palm up. 

“Still stubborn.” It was wasn’t meant to chastise however she took it as such. She growled a little. “Look who’s talking,” was her not-so-gentle retort. “Now, put me down. Go get your ration.” Optimus shook his head slightly, hushed amusement in his field, something that she could totally feel. But he relented, placing down on the ground. She adjusted her shirt. “Go,” Optimus knew an order when one was given. There was only an exception: he was usually the one to give them, not so much to receive them. It was still something that he wasn’t used to, and he was not sure he could get used. 

Of course, he still remembered when there was the time in his life when he received orders. It was a long while ago, before the war, even before his days at the Archives, back when an enforcer was seen as _good_ and not as a sign that things were going to turn sour. That kind of left a bitter taste in his mouth just at the thought. He did not much care for those memories now, they _all_ left him _feeling_ , something that he knew that he should avoid. He had not. 

He shook the foul data packets back into dark space, hopefully somewhere they would not resurface. Not for any length of time. His pedes felt heavy, he turned with a swivel to his hip and walked with a slow, rather leisurely pace to the storeroom. Each thump of his pedes sounded obnoxiously loud, and even when he attempted to quiet it, it only made it worse. 

Nightblade noticed that his frame was tense however said nothing, only watching out the corner of her eye. She knew he hated being watched. That part of him never changed.

The door creaked, just like the hinges had not been used in ages, perhaps it was only rust. Old ships tended to have minor trouble with rust here and there. Optimus did not care though, only making sure the Nightblade stays off his back. And the only sure fire way to do that successfully is to just do what she asked. It's not like she has a shortage of fuel, he should be able to have a full cube without any guilt, but logic sometimes never made it through to him. Even the driest, most stoic of mecha have bursts of emotion that they try to hide from; guilt was one of his.

He tried not to think about that as he procured a cube for himself, through the first shelf that had a simple numeric lock. He took the little device in his hand, mindlessly turned the knobs for each number. Optimus was about to tell his Amica that it was locked (oh well), but then he saw a little note on the wall, just beside the door. It had the code 8-9-1-6. He wasn't sure what those numbers meant however, it did not matter to him. He spun each knob with precision, watching as each glyph passed another until he got the ones he wanted. It worked fine (oh darn). 

The inside of the cabinet was fully stocked. And it should be assumed so, they four left Mars and had not said when they would return. A part of Optimus did not want to return. Even if the only reason he was there at all was because Nightblade and Skyblaze dragged (with his permission and with their invitation) him along for a vacation that turned into a mission, well, he couldn't help that. He couldn't help them. 

He growled at himself. Of course, he could be of help! Was he such a fool that he thought this about himself? At times, he wondered if he was even sane. He grabbed a cube, shut the cabinet with a clank, and locked it back up again, resetting the lock to the way it was before. 

He pushed the door open with his other arm—forearm, blue cube casting off light about his frame. He caught himself ogling at the light, how it bounced across his frame as he walked. It was a pretty glow, like it was pure Energon and not synthetic in nature. 

That is one thing that Optimus had gotten used to while the war raged; pure Energon so rare in commodity to the point that many mecha had never actually had it in their entire life. Even during the Golden Age, with the rationing that incurred was not the pure Energon from Cybertron or from its crystals from Crystal City; it was all synthetic. And all the more expensive, a plus from the senate that made many, many mecha very poor, and all the many more angry and rebellious. It was something that he fought against once he learned of it. Then there were gladiator fights that were derived from the sheer act of making sure others were no longer functional.

He did not suppress his growl. The fire that burned and wanted to burn through his systems came back with the continued realization that everything that he had done had been for nothing, the war, all the lives lost, it was all for nothing. It was something that he could have stopped but by pride and for fear of losing everything, he had come to lose everything he cared for. 

“You know, you have to open that cube to drink it.” He heard her through his systematic fog. His vents hissed but not in irritation as he peeled a corner open. He held it there in front of his slightly parted derma, its aroma wafting in so much he could scarcely taste it. Her quiet gaze stayed on him, watching him, only when he took a gulp of the liquid did she look away. It was cool and slid thickly down the back of his throat. It was not uncomfortable however, it was yet another reminder how he was on Earth away from his soldiers who most likely hadn’t been so lucky to even have any Energon at all. It all made his intake tighten with the thoughts, slightly spasming against his will. He could only manage half before his tanks started to gurgle uncomfortably. 

Optimus closed it back, but the corner did not go into place the first time. Something so small and it irritated him so. He did not notice that he had growled a curse when it did not comply with his fingers, Nightblade however did. Then is when she turned further toward him, hair bouncing over her shoulder, eyeing him yet again. He did not see or care to notice that she had caught him, and just flatly decided to throw the cube into his chest subspace. 

“I’ve had fuel Night,” it sounded tired coming from him. In fact he was but that was something that he would not admit to unless absolutely necessary. 

“Good. Get into mode. We’ve got stuff to do.” Nightblade clapped her hands together, seemingly enthusiastic. He was not. 

“How far is the site?” 

“About seven miles from here. Just south of Wind Mountain,” she supplied. “Not too far, but we will have an escort.” His frame hissed at the mere mention of that, knowing full well that Simmons would be there. Optimus knew that he shouldn’t have been too hard on Simmons, but that did not help his stale opinion of the man. Even when he had helped the Witwicky child when Sentinel was not truly going to fight for the Autobot cause, to betray his student, race, and faction. 

Optimus sighed. When he walked over to where Nightblade was, his chassis twisted into his route mode. The holomation felt hot this time, but the leather inside himself was cool to the touch, like it had been. It was just as it should have been. 

He rolled down his window, almost on autopilot, and watched as she came closer, hopping onto the side with her arms crossed. “We are going to be following these guyes lead, alright? Even though there are not too many people at the site, it’d be better to attempt a low profile.”

“As if you are one to speak of such things,” Optimus groused, gripping indignantly at the wheel. “You have never been one to stay below radar. Ever.” The heat in his body rose again, bearable however, quite noticeable to him. It was something he was sure she could not notice; there were no heat sensors within her human frame that could detect something so minute. 

“It is not something I’ve been good at, sure. But, one thing I am sure of is that we need the cover. Simmons doesn’t know about any of us,” she simply added, stroking her hand from corner to corner of his driver’s window. _That is why the heat is happening_ , he mused, albeit a little disturbed with himself for being sensitive there. Or sensitive at all for what has happened to him. 

When he reached out to stop her, when their synthetic, holographic flesh touched he froze. _Is this really how humans felt like? What they could feel like?_ Of course, he had held humans before, although in those situations and for what he is, there was limited touch between flesh. Flesh and metal however did not show so much feeling, the contrast almost non-existent, lost on him, all except for their heat, even when their readings were perhaps a bit more skewed than they should have been. 

Nightblade did not hesitate at his silent order for her to stop, although did hold his hand as if reunited. Her mind was still on the mission at hand, they had to leave, sooner rather than later would be better. She ran her chocolate thumb over his tanned knuckles. “Get rolling. We still have ground to cover,” it was a soft voice, one that even he rarely heard from her that roused him to roll his engines. 

“Are you driving or riding?” He asked, not quite sure why he even bothered to ask her anything. She most likely would drive. It would not make so much sense to go to a crash site in only a holomation and not an actual frame that could handle the environment. 

She shrugged. “I’ll drive. Drag Sky along. You know.” And, as it would seem, even then he was right even when he did not care. How unfortunate for him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked at it. I'm tired. BUT I DID MY RESEARCH PAPER AND SHE'S READY TO BE TURNED IN BOOYA 
> 
> Also hello, how's the world in your corner?
> 
> Lol. Earth is a sphere. There's no corner. Where did that phrase even come from? Corner of the world. I'm so confused. Idk. Enjoy this monstrosity

The hours seemed to fade into each other, dull and long, with little reward for anyone. There was an ache that travelled up along Cade’s lower spine, reminding him once again that he was getting older. _Lovely_ , he thought with a cough. 

Crosshairs turned down the radio, something that helped Cade phase out, he zoned back into the real world. “Something up?”

“You tell me. You've started to cough a lot recently.” Cade thought about it, the time of year, his unfortunate affinity to get sick in the months October and November. “It's a once a year thing,” he supplied. “Last year I got sick then too. It happens.”

“Yeah, a’ight. That doesn’ change that you’ve started hackin’ in my cab. I don’t wan’ carry a dead or a sick man,” chided Crosshairs. The seat that Cade was in began to heat up, comfortable against his sore back. Cade did not reply at first and only marveled at how just the slight temperature change had helped ever so precisely. 

“Cross, you make it sound like you’re afraid to get sick from me.”

“Not exactly,” he countered quietly, barely heard over the loud draw of his engines as he pulled away from Hound. The reply left Cade more than a little confused. Was Crosshairs just against those who were ill and steered clear? Did he have a thing against death? Well, the latter would be much less likely. He likes to shoot things too much to have that one option truly considered. “We don’t sick like that Cade. It i’nt really that simple.”

Cade hummed as shifted his legs, shifting his feet that were starting to get tingly without movement. “Explain it to me then.” Crosshairs had a strange roll to his engines for a moment, something that made Cade a little uncomfortable while they were going at just shy of 80 MPG. 

“I ain’t a medic, the closest thing we got to a medic is Hound ‘nd he barely knows scrap,” he sounded sarcastic but deep in the back of his mind, Crosshairs was sick and tired of having to rely upon Hound for technical help. He was a warrior, a sniper, he could handle anything that anyone could throw at him. Hound was only a Wrecker, and a former one at that. He hadn’t been trained except for the things that he had experienced himself. They all were scarcely prepared for anything that could occur.

“We get viruses, bugs, but nothin’ like your flus. We glitch. That’s as far as my know-how is,” he supplied. Some of it made sense to Cade, working with computers and other hardware and software allowed for that kind of understanding. However, more questions unfurled themselves, showing a deeper curiosity. He already had come to figure out that mecha, Cybertronians, had a kind of sex drive, so what stopped them from having other systemic responses from the environment? 

“It gets complicated,” Crosshairs added, trying to assure himself that Cade would not ask anymore medical questions that he would be unable to answer. He _would_ be able to answer Cade, however, he would not be so sure about how accurate the information would be. Soldiers were meant to fight which meant that they did not have the time, software or the appropriate chassis to carry about medical equipment while in the field. 

It worked for a time. Cade still sat quietly against a warm seat, almost lulled to sleep. But his mind kept him awake, wondering, even daydreaming about what awaited them at their destination. More Decepticons? More Autobots? Optimus?

Every time he thought about that mech he swore that butterflies had somehow managed to find their way into his stomach, making him queasy and irritable and excited all in a roaring flash of mere seconds. He was an old man now, wife gone from the living, daughter off and about doing God knows what. Lucky Charms did not seem to bother him so much now. He had matured too, keeping his Irish accent about him as well. 

_What is she doing now?_ Cade wondered hopelessly. He hadn’t spoken to her, seen her since the outburst maybe two months prior. He missed her but she needed to apologize, not only the mecha he now also called family but to him. He still did not understand why she acted so out of character. Tessa was a smart woman but her tongue seemed to get her into more trouble than it was really worth. He wanted to see her, make things better between them.

“Cade,” Crosshairs cut through the man’s train of thought. “We’re about 18 miles away. Be ready to ditch.” It was quiet a moment. “You’ve got that gun thing, yeah?” 

“It’s sticking out of my bag.”

“Good. You may need it,” Crosshairs uttered. His radio picked up a station that was coming out of New Mexico, it was far from clear but it sounded like kind of like mariachi. Cade didn’t care for it but did not oppose it. 

“Hey Crosshairs.” The car hummed. “What do you think we’re going up against?” 

“With luck, nothin’ too bad. But haven’ had good luck fo’ awhile now,” he sighed. “What do you think?” It shouldn’t have some as a surprise to have been asked the question in return. All except it was like his words were choking him. If he told the truth on the matter, he was sure he’d puke. So, he settled for something. “I know what I want, but I have a feeling it’s the exact opposite.” Crosshairs growled, shifting into another gear. 

Bumblebee slipped from the lead to be parallel to Drift, a slight change than when they started on their journey. He stayed the same speed, not bothered by how dangerously close their chassis’ were. They stayed like that. It was kind of freaked Cade out but he kept that quiet. 

The sun was above the horizon to their backs, if cars had backs. It blinded Cade a couple of times when he slipped too far to the side, light bouncing from the rear view mirror and slapping him. 

The silence took over again, the radio off; the only sounds to be heard were the roaring engines of the mechanisms surrounding the human. Cade watched the side of the road, how the grass had shivered away to a dirt-dry landscape. Although he was surrounded by dirt and everything looked half dead, there was building pit that grew in his stomach as they approached the landing site. It made him feel giddy and afraid all at the same time, something he’d felt a lot as time had gone on.

“We’re here,” Crosshairs rumbled, tires dragged against the asphalt. Was it foolish to hope that this was Optimus? Yes, simply put. Was it foolish to have hope? No. So Cade would have hope, even with the trembling belief that in these brief moments, Optimus had returned.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just dead tired y'all. It's a good day to fall the hell to sleep and only wake up for turkey day and then crash again. :3 Hello

The smell of coffee and lavender incense wafted around the living room from the light blue and oak kitchen. All things were calming, even the slight static to the radio that came through, blurring words that otherwise were clear. 

Blonde hair folded into a messy side bun only barely held together by a tie, bounced and shivered with even the slightest movement. Tessa sipped at her coffee, letting the nipping heat envelope her mouth, sweet with a hint of bitterness as she read. It was a chemistry textbook for one of the classes that she was supposed to have attended. It was early in the book, with electron configuration and valence electrons. She had only looked at it to remind herself how either went. 

Not that knowing either would help her at the moment. Her appeal to the Houston University, she could swear, was still sitting in the Dean's office for at least the last two months to the minute. She knew she did not _disclose_ she had a gun, and perhaps that is what made everything slow. The tests, there was nothing wrong with them, merely practice tests. The antidepressants, those she needed. She sighed as she flipped through, revealing even more _electrons_. 

“You alright deary?” Shane’s grandmother asked, sitting in a green and teal armchair with her coffee. “You’ve done nothing but sit there and sigh into that book.” She set down her drink and with ease, liberated the book from a weak one-handed grasp. “Why don’t you startin' talk to me.” Oddly, the encounter made her think about what a mother would do, what her mother would have done. That, if she were still alive or alive at all during her childhood. 

“Mary,” Tessa started, taking her feet from the couch to the floor, wooden and cold. “Is -- should I even still be trying?” It sounded childish and she knew it. Silver and thinning hair parted down the middle swept over a sweatered shoulder, red argyle knit contrasting with the silver. 

“What would make you ask that?” Mary Anne inquired, looking back at the textbook. “You’re a smart girl, smarter than I was at your age, with all this kind of things,” referring to the book. “Of course you should still _try_. No one got anywhere on looks alone.” Tessa looked at her, how her old eyes crinkled at the corners, how they seemed to twinkle in the light. She knew that Mary was right; she had at least fifty years under her belt, listening to her now would be beneficial. 

“Looks never did anything good for me. I always got in trouble,” Tessa supplied, thinking of junior year, sophomore year, and one teacher that was determined to keep her out of class. Or that is what she wanted to believe instead. _I can see your collar bone! I can see your strap! You’re being distracting to the boys!_ the voice played in the same boisterous way that she recalled it. And how annoying too. Michael, Larry, Jeremiah, they all said that the only thing that was distracting was Mr. Louis and how he interrupted his own lectures to announce that _she_ had been out of code. 

“Then you already know that you can’t rely upon it.” Mary leaned in, the book resting on her knees. Tessa nodded, slowly reaching for her coffee that had been close to the edge. “You’ve made good headway. All you have to do now is just keep moving. No sense in wasting time over things that can’t be changed.” She waited a moment, watching as grey eyes looked over a dark blue mug. “You best accept and move on. It saves you a hell of a lot of trouble.” Mary leaned back, her back curving with the cushion there. Tessa’s chem book still atop her knees, atop a grey skirt and leggings. “Lord knows we don’t live forever,” she added with a huff, flipping a couple hundred pages forward. 

Tessa didn’t reply, feeling both chastised and a little dissatisfied with what Mary Anne told her. She knew it was the truth but it was one pill that she did not wish to swallow. Her coffee, although barely touched, was placed back down on the table in front of her. It had done little to warm her, and the cold had gotten to her feet which did not help matters either. 

“Here, look,” Mary piped up. “If I asked you what Arrhenius’ Theory was, could you tell me?” 

“I mean-”

“Could you,” Mary Anne pushed. Tessa straightened on the couch, tucking her feet under her. “His theory was that acids would dissociate in water, and would cause ions to become electrically charged. And that bases would ionize and cause Hydroxide to form.”

“You see? You knew that from the top of your head. Now, why was there doubt?” She was torn. Tessa should not have any doubt about her abilities now. Why had they come about? 

The door sounded before she could make a reply. “Excuse me.”

“I’ve got it,” the older gentleman stated with a limp and a cane in hand. Mary Anne hummed at her husband, one that seemed that even he heard. She tilted her head, only just enough to see him cross her vision from behind. 

“I really thought that he was still asleep,” she whispered, although he could hear with his aid, he did not reply. “Who would come over on a Sunday morning? Isn’t everyone else in church or something?”

“Or something,” Mary Anne said as she took up her coffee. They waited. The smell of lavender had recaptured Tessa’s attention. Now, it seemed to be doing as it was supposed to, calm her. The beat that she felt in her throat seemed to fade. 

“Grampa Georgie! Lemme in,” Tessa heard a laugh that was quite familiar reach into the living room. “You want in, aye?” The rumble of the Irishman almost gave Tessa goosebumps. They both laughed and the clank of a wooden cane popped through to the living room. 

And who ventured in behind him made Tessa’s skin crawl. His brunette hair had gotten longer since when she saw him last. Had it really been that long? “Hello Tess,” he greeted. “How are you ladies?” he asked, quiet and sincere. 

Tessa hummed, sipping her coffee to hide her surprise. Mary Anne however, leaned back further into the cushion and simply said “Doing well sweetie. Faring a bit colder than usual.”

“Lad, go an’ get a cup,” his grandfather ordered, tired eyes watched Shane while he set down on the opposite end of the couch with his cane held propped against the arm. “I’ll get it.” Mary straightened before she was about to rise. 

“Nah dear, the lad can do it. I want him to do it,” Georgie objected. Shane walked behind her, silver hair falling past her ear, warm hands softly rested on her shoulders. “I’ve got it.” And kissed her head, he removed his hands. “Need a refill?” Tessa knew he was looking at her, and said nothing at first, only rose to her feet, the cold wood reminding her why her feet were tucked snugly against the couch and her bum. She did not respond, leaving him and his grandparents left fixated on the silence. 

Shane, his hands kneading the top of the teal chair. “She’s still sore at ya,” Georgie commented, not really any help. 

“I… know.” 

“Go to her. Talk. It will only help,” Grannie Mary Anne patted his hand. Hers were unmistakably cold. “Go.”

Shane opened his mouth but he knew that she was right, being married 25 years tends to gain experience in relationships. Georgie and Mary were so happy, they must have had something like this - well, kind of - happen to them over those years. 

“You heard the lady, go. And don’t be forgetting me drink.” Grandpa Georgie pointed with his lips, eyes glistening as he watched him go without words to the kitchen. “Gregory! That was not funny,” Mary Anne chided, her face straight and serious. His, however, was not. “I thought it was.” With a smirk, he got up and stepped over with his cane, and leaned down so that he could kiss her forehead. 

“Those two need to square things around,” she whispered while leaning back into the cushion. He only hummed, knowing that she was right. 

In the kitchen, Shane stood there as he poured straight from the pot, steam wafting up in soft clouds. Once he was done, he rested his hands against the cold, hard granite counter. “Tess.” 

She did not respond. “Tessa, please,” Shane whispered. “Please, hear me out.”

“I don’t want to. Dad sent you, didn’t he.” There was a fire in her eyes. “He told you to come here, didn’t he.” The way she said it made Shane step back. He did not recover as quickly as he could have. 

“No, he didn’t. I came because I miss you,” he started. “I know you’re upset at me but—”  
“But you told my dad. You made it so he doesn’t trust me! Do you know what that even feels like?”

“Yeah, I do.” Shane let his head fall to the side, and when he looked back to her, he replied, “Right now, talking with you.” The fire had been seemingly squelched from her eyes. She sighed and reaffixed her glare. “Then you’ve gotta see…”

“Tess, I know it wasn’t exactly the best thing that could’ve been done and I’m sorry, I really am.” Shane took a tentative step forward. “Please, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” his voice still quiet. “I love you and I want you happy, it’s all I want. But, please, he’s your dad. You have one that loves you, and wants what’s best, he’d understand if you explained it to him.”

She paused, Shane never mentioned his father ever— _sperm donor_ —he never liked that he skipped out on his life. But he knew would be like that, not to Tess, not to anyone, not like what he did. 

Tessa turned away, back against the counter, her arms crossed. “But would he listen?” 

“He cares about you. He doesn’t like me. Your dad would listen… if you’re willing to tell him,” Shane pleaded.

Tessa did not say anything, letting the words sink into her skull. “He wants nothing more than to be a part of your life, that’s something I can get,” he continued. She growled. “Then why has he shut me out?”

“He hasn’t! He wanted to have your head cool off. He didn’t want to drive you further away.” From that moment, she had a simple thought go through her head. And she knew what had to be done.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took way too long to make and I'm disappointed that it did. It's not to my standard but it needed to move along so I could maybe keep trying to work on this slag.
> 
> https://lingojam.com/Dalicix 
> 
> You can go here to translate anything that Nightblade and Optimus say when it's not English.

Nightblade slide out her truck and Skyblaze doing the same, a middle-aged man approached them. “What do we expect to find?” asked a man with a silvering goatee. “A little alien tomfoolery or some world-shattering hubbub?” He looked around and grumbled, “Perfect place for a hiding spot.”

“Simmons, do yourself a favor, shut up,” Skyblaze snapped, obviously she did not care for him. Nightblade stepped around the truck stopped beside her. She raised a hand slightly to Skyblaze, a way to quiet her. “What we are here to find is none of your concern. What is your concern, however, is making sure everyone stays out of the area. Kapish?” 

Optimus stepped down from his frame, not watching the three, only taking a glimpse at Moondancer who to a dust-busting halt beside him, throwing up dirt into the air. Her door slammed shut. Optimus was a little kinder to his frame. 

“Aye, aye. I kapish.” Simmons threw his hands up in submission. “But you’re messing with my addiction, Anna.” _Who is this Anna?_ Optimus asked himself only as he walked up to them. Moondancer was only a few steps behind him. 

“You have an addiction, I have a job.”

“A job implies that you’re getting paid,” Simmons smirked, his tenor poking into a falsetto. “Who’s payin’ you four? CIA? FBI? The Canadians?” 

“I’m not paying you to yap,” Nightblade snapped. “I’m paying you to keep people away and quiet, you got me? And when you’re in the know, you’ll know. But, you are not and won’t be.” 

“Oui m'dame,” Simmons replied with a nasally accent. Moondancer rolled her eyes and waded her way in between Simmons and her creators. “Can you handle this, Seymour Simmons?”

“Oh ay, ay! I’ve done this before little lady,” his New Yorker accent replaced the french— _thank primus_ —but his tongue was still there, flapping about.

“Shut up. Let’s get moving,” Optimus pitted in, his baritone was enough to silence the man for a moment. He stared directly at Simmons and said with toxic precision, “I don’t like it here.” He gave the coldest glare that could be mustered in his feeble, flesh-like holomation, and thankfully that was all that was necessary. The tension for once was not of his doing, however, still it irked him all the same.

Black trucks that Optimus had not seen at first moved some closer and some further away from where they were standing. It was just like when the CIA, when Attinger, was after him. It took everything he had to not stand up in his frame and slash them all to smithereens. It took everything to keep his cover. Somehow, he believed that Simmons recognized his voice. Optimus could not dwell on that, considering that if he does continue to think more about it, it will only serve to fry his circuits. 

Nightblade turned her head and eased her glare. She pointed with her eyes, back to his rig. As if he needed to be asked again, leaving sounded great. Swiftly he turned on his heel and left, as did the others, leaving Simmons to stand alone in the dry landscape. 

“Does he really irk you so much?” Optimus overheard Skyblaze ask Nightblade. Optimus lingered a moment, mere meters away from his door. “No. Yanks do. His mother may have been kind enough, him however… how he goes about things—that irks me,” she supplied. And Optimus stopped listening, slamming his door shut as he watched the three women walk to their vehicles. Simmons, he only stayed there, in the middle of the dirt and rubble. 

_Then why the slag did you call upon him?_ Optimus hissed. _He’s been nothing but trouble from the moment I've known him. Had I known you'd call upon him, Night, I would have stayed behind_. It was only a half-truth. He would not have fit in with those on the Martian, amongst the emptiness of space. It was one thing he never wanted to do again. 

Optimus had a full body shudder deep even within his chassis, something that should have perhaps concerned him. Nightblade’s truck wheeled its way passed him with the red flight chassis resting there, at ease. Moondancer pulled away from beside him.

He finally started his engine after watching the leave, and obviously slow. “You coming?” asked Skyblaze through a static comm. through his radio. The roar in his frame echoed his holomation, growling and sighing, but ultimately moving. He grabbed the mic and held it between his fingers, perhaps jabbing the button on a little harder than was necessary. “Yeah.”

“You think he’s okay?” Skyblaze paused, fumbling with the mic. Darkened eye darted to her mate. “I've never seen him like this,” Sky added softly. 

“I don't know. But he doesn't want help, not from me,” Night groused, features tightening with concentration. She growled like her voice had come and gone in a moment. “I don’t want to call him depressed but what else could be a problem?”

“I’m no psychologist, I would not know where to begin. You’re more knowledge than I.” Skyblaze reached for the dark hand that was resting between them, massaging the dry knuckles. 

“Thank you,” Night said suddenly, quietly, while squeezing soft holomized flesh of her mate. “For what?”

“For sticking around,” Night sighed with a goofy smile. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Sky gave a side glance with a half smile.

The three trucks (and one red plane) had come to a stop at the bottom of the crest of Wind Mountain. Optimus had stuck back, meters away from the other frames. The whole environment had lost its air of mystery and had been replaced by a dull thump in the back of his head and too hard pulses. Any comfort that did once come by being outside, amongst the earthy landscape had lost all pleasure. Now, just being on dirt reminded him of sand, that reminded him of Egypt… and the fact that he had already died once upon the wretched planet. 

The other fact that it was _humans_ that had brought him back online seemed to fade to nothing more than faulty code. Something that even he still could not quite believe, even then. _Grateful_ perhaps he should have been… but it was because of he was protecting a human that he had _lost_ his spark in the first place. The Matrix did nothing to protect him. It was largely unlikely that it would. It’s so-called knowledge had done so little to guide him. He blamed so much of the war’s loss on it… and even more on himself.

Upon opening his door to jump out Moondancer called out from her transformed frame, “stay in alt.” The dark blue and gold details glistened in the mid-morning light, little sparkles danced from the frame’s metallic paint. With a huff, he closed the door again and searched his HUD for the close code. The deformation was certainly… unsettling. And going from being a human holomation, walking, driving, talking, in the form all to then transform, seemed to leave his head spinning. _Hope that is not normal_. 

“Be armed,” Nightblade ordered as he approached, a single blade unsheathed from her arm. The whirring of photon rifles from the other femme had his optics darting to the side, warily watching, as if they would turn on him. “I’m not sure what could be in here.”

“You mean to say that you have not ran scans?” Optimus asked incredulously, stepping between Nightblade and Skyblaze. The dark blue in his bored into her lavender ones, although with little effect. 

She twisted something against her blade, making something else work, before replying. “I did, but all scans came back inconclusive.” Something red pulsed through the middle of her sword, weaving its way under the plating. “You’re more than alright if you wish to stay outside. Especially since it is the Terminus and…”

He growled, uncontrolled. Optimus then felt the uncomfortable gazes of all three femmes, but something in his head did not connect. His glare stayed against Night’s, moments faded into each other. Moondancer guided Skyblaze away to the Terminus.

Once out of audial shot, Nightblade growled lightly. “What has gotten up with you? I know you don’t much care for Simmons, or even going onto that bloody ship, or being on this rock. Why are you getting so unnerved?”

“Unnerved,” he scoffed. “Try sullen, remorseful, guilty! And yet they only scratch the surface.” Optimus gritted his dentae. “Just shut up already, Night. I don’t want to listen.”

“I can’t make you listen.” Her gaze softened. “But I’m still here.”

“I wonder as to why that is.” Optimus’ glare had not changed in the slightest, however, his tone fell. “How come you have dealt with me in the past, now.” He began to ring his hands, tugging at each digit, at his wrist.

Nightblade put her blade away, hoping fleetingly that could relax the situation. She took a step forward, only one, and kept her field clear. “You—Optimus, you’re not someone to deal with. You’ve been my friend for as long as my memory serves me well.” Optimus hug his hands to his sides, flexing, clenching. “Optimus—Orion, please. For the love of a deity I don’t believe in, please, I’m worried for you; please, tell me what is bothering you. I… I want to help but I don’t know how to, where to start…” her voice cracked, field just barely under her control. 

Optimus kept his quiet, seconds melting in moments, moments to minutes. There were so many things that were going through his head, so much more that he did not wish to share aloud to anyone. Even if the mech was his Amica, there was still this sense of shame that clouded his HUD, coding, CPU. It was all something that he did not want to focus on. He’d so much more wish to focus on aiming his gun at something, but… that even would cause other things to emerge. 

With a huff, Optimus looked at his hands, if at all to avoid the look of grief in hers. “There’s… been things I haven’t told you. Things I wanted to hide from you,” it was weak, but he continued, “I wasn’t sure if I could share it with you.” She motioned for him to sit before he continued further. With an even deeper breath, he whispered, “I left Autobots here. I left them alone.” Pause. 

Her cool optics followed his sight, watching, then reaching for his hands. Never did she say anything. She wasn’t moving at all, save for her digits against his. He wasn’t sure but could bet she felt him gulp. “And because of me, they are most likely dead. Like everyone who has come to this planet with me,” his voice wavered, shaky, and dare say—weak. “Nothing for the past 25 million years has worked! I’ve only lost everything. I lost Megatronus, you, Ratchet—” he looked at her now “—I lost Cade.”

“Cade?”

 _Fuck me sideways!!!_

He turned away so quickly, tearing his hands from her grasp. “He… it doesn’t matter. I’ve kept you from your operation for too long.” He picked himself up and refused to face her. 

She sighed quietly but followed him up the mountain, toward the crevice that held that Terminus.

* * *

“I was beginning to wonder if you two were coming at all.” Skyblaze stood by what could potentially be an entrance. Grey and dull, with claw marks. Optimus was up first, optics narrowed to the ground with a punch to his field that even he knew he could not entirely control. 

“We just—” Nightblade then watched Optimus ready his weapon, and she did the same, although with much less ferocity. “—got to talking.” Even Optimus knew that was a lame excuse but ignored it the best he could as he came closer to Moondancer and Skyblaze. 

“Are we going to go in or…?” Moondancer did not sound uneased, but rather confused. _She must be mocking me_ , it was absurd but it did cross his mind. Optimus just wanted this over with. 

Without a word from his vocalizer, he saw the clawed marks on the metal. Something, he was not sure what, seemed to lurk in his systems. The touch he gave it sent the door reeling, shifting and pushing against other plates, shoving them out of the way. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”

Optimus walked in first, hand holding firm on the side to both lift and steady him; and with little regard for the other femmes, kept going. He already knew the ship and just wanted to find what was there and leave, possibly not even leave with his Amica now that she knew something that was also bothering him greatly. 

He had noticed that he had left them far behind when he heard something, something he could not quite place. Then there was a growl. With a quirk to his brow, he reached for the Knight’s sword and… it’s on Night’s ship. Aside from his misfortune, he could place the growl, and it belonged to an ancient creature. He pressed on through the cluttered way with shelves stacked high and full, just as he had remembered when Lockdown had taken him. He had given up so easily. That was something that he was still ashamed of.

That would have to wait. The growling—purring?—had gotten louder. Optimus pressed forward, keeping an optic open for a weapon of some sort, something more than what he had installed in his frame. 

His comms. buzzed, almost startling him. It was from Nightblade, what could she possibly want now? >> Oritma, meifi cka aldr postu? Mapk calni dinf ald. << Optimus suppressed his groan, and answered with grunt, >> Rornt o ald. <<

Although the dialect is as old as they are, Dalicix was still the one thing that still connected Nightblade and himself. It was something that subtly reminded him of a better age. But those memories were faded, dull, and he had lost his mind to it all. There came so little comfort like it once had, now only an ache, a yearning for something that would never be again.

He could still think of Cade.

 _Cade…_ He stopped in his tracks. Oh, what would he even think of Optimus now? What would he notice first? The age of his frame, or the hard and frustrated outer shell of this once calm and collected mech or how he had fallen so far from grace? 

His engines hissed in retaliation to his processor. Such nonsense! Cade would be happy to see him, wouldn't he? But after so long, would he want to?

The purring grown. Whatever it was, was right on top of him.

* * *

Before Cade left the green car, shots were fired into the air. “Fucking hell!” he gasped as he flinched down. 

Black trucks were lined up like soldiers, machine guns ready and primed toward Cade and everyone. “Governm’nt got ‘ere kind of quick,” Hound groused in his alt, not moving. “Can't blast ‘em.”

“Shooting at these guys won't do anything. Just piss off their superiors,” Cade snorted, hoisting his bag out and over his shoulder. He kept staring down the line of trucks, watching and seeing nothing change. 

“Cade.” He heard Drift say quickly. “I do not believe it is wise to leave.”

“We've come this far. I've already played footsie with black ops perps, I'm not stepping down now.”

The whir of a megaphone seemed to buzz its way across the clearing. There a man whacked at the end of the megaphone and lifted it. “You are not authorized to be here. Turn around and go back or we will open fire,” said a man with an accent. Cade knew what that meant, all the bots knew what that meant, he couldn't play this dumbly. 

He didn't move and in those few seconds, fire rung out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick and tired and at school. Three things I presently have very little control over.
> 
> Lemme know what you think! :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could have been better, and im sorry but I needed to make motion and this was the motion i could make with as little energy as i have
> 
> so, on a brigher note. this is not dead. im just a slow as hell turd that works on too many things at a time lol i should be able to make a chapter and have it out by the first week of june. should. i have vacation so i can have hope lol
> 
> please enjoy and maybe leave a comment :)

The harsh echo through the valley of bullets sung. Cade ducked for cover behind Crosshairs’ door. Before he had a chance to ready his alien gun, Hound’s engines hissed and growled while bullets rang against his frame. 

“Ow, oi!” His frame jumped and rolled forward and suddenly the shots seemed to stop. Confused and terror-filled yells carried down but their words were lost on Cade. Here he had a chance, he readied his weapon but did not quite step into the line of fire, not before Drift and Crosshairs and Bumblebee jumped into their alt. modes. The yelling from across the valley did not quiet down but the firing had stopped. 

“What are they doing?” Cade asked, going to stand beside Crosshairs, watching how his optics seemed to flare while he peered over at the top of the plateau. Hound shifted his large pedes and then turned halfway to Cade and shrugged. 

“They may be calling reinforcements,” Drift said with an air of disappointment. “We are still not supposed to be here.” _On this planet_ was something he quietly omitted. His armor flared on his arms, trailing down his arm. “I believe it unwise to-”

“-Shut it, Samurai Jack. Guy’s coming right to us,” Hound interrupted, pointing with a tilted head. 

One of the nameless black trucks drove down a little too fast for comfort. It sent a shiver down Cade’s spine, a quick and painful reminder of when the CIA, Attinger, was after him. He raised his weapon out of spite, although not being entirely sure how this entire situation will go. Even when the rig came to a stop Cade was unwavering.

A man with grey, messy hair, stepped out of the driver’s side. A dirt stained suit—something that was much better suited for an office than in the middle of a desert. There was a certain glint in his eyes, something that Cade refused to place. This guy just… walked right passed him like he was a mere statue, or he was distracted enough to not notice. 

“Bumbley-bee! I thought they shipped you and the rest off for good.” He seemed relieved. 

Crosshairs looked at Bumblebee funnily. “You know him?”

“He peed on me once,” Simmons said it proudly, like it was actually a good thing vice something to show disrespect for the human. Good thing that Bumblebee is not really one to hold onto a grudge. “You can put the gun down soldier. They won’t be shooting at you,” Simmons directed to Cade.

“Yeah, I’m just not so sure about you.” Cade still held it with both hands, he did lower it but did not relinquish control at any point. He won’t bring himself to trust those from the government, not now or ever. “What makes you so sure I won’t shoot you?”

“You like your friends. Youse friends, yeah?”

“Cut the shit—” Bumblebee’s radio switched channels “—what’s your mother[bleep] purpose?” _Purpose_ came over his radio without hesitation but the _fucking_ was censored (by Bumblebee). 

Cade looked at Bumblebee, a mixture of confused and disappointment was plastered on his face. He wanted to make comment on the song—Cade personally did not care for it, but remained quiet. Unlike Cade, Simmons was not bothered by it and merely messed with his overcoat, straightening it. “Classified,” he said. “I can’t let youse pass any farther.” 

[Cue an author who has no fucking clue how to go from here. Murder…]

“And why—” An explosion ripped through the mountain’s face, making even the mecha by Cade flinch at it suddenness. Simmons’ growled and grabbed something that was on his hip and Cade reacted by pointing his weapon at him, only it was a walkie-talkie. 

“You bettah have a damn good excuse for what that was,” he hissed, gripping the device while his knuckles changed from an olive to a white before Cade’s eyes. A man on the other end said something, something that Cade could not make out the staticked yell. 

Gunfire rang out from the other side of the valley, the fire, although now, aimed for the mountain’s face. “Damn! Hold your fire! Hold fire! Our three are in there!”

 _Three who?_ Cade wondered with a glint in his eyes, his hair falling into his face. 

A familiar object was flung from the breaking face, grays and blues were dark against the morning sky. “What the fuck is that?” Cade couldn’t help but mouth quietly. Mecha behind him equal parts confused and battle ready.

Drift looked on with an open jaw. “That’s a mech!”

* * *

Metal flailed through the air, leaving Optimus mere moments before hitting the ground and skidding to a halt. His vents barely moved, the flick—whole body smack—that the dinobot had given him made it nigh impossible. 

“Optimus! Status?” Nightblade—much to Optimus’ still mild irritation—commed. He tried to move first, rocks and dirt shifted under him, one pressing into the lower center of his back, breaking his stoics with a whince. He didn’t answer, he could see her frame poking from the now very open mountain face. Moving his servos, going under him, sharp stones pressed into his palms and his knees whilst her turned over. 

Although his motion was slow, Optimus knew he was being watched—most likely by those humans that Nightblade was so adamant about bringing into the situation. Unfortunately, he knew that they could most likely see him now. Nothing like being a wanted criminal and still be working with (although, obviously not his first choice) practically the people that wanted him dead and dispatched. 

He heard a familiar growl over his comms, “Optimus. Answer me. Or I’ll come down there myself.” He sighed, still not answering. “Don’t make me.” It sounded—from her—more defeated than she would have wanted. 

“I’m up. I’m fine. It’s—” he stumbled, stones sliding from under his pedes were of no help either— “Hardy the first time I’ve been flung by someone.” Once he steadied himself further, after another minute shift, he said, “There are three up there, so far what I could see.”

There was a mumble over the comms, not so much from Nightblade but from what it sounded like to be Skyblaze. “What is it?”

“There are a lot more than three.” The soft tone in which those words were spoken did something weird inside his head. It wasn’t something he was quite sure he understood but it seemed to make his spark pulse a bit harder than usual. Something unspoken from inside made him go, go into mode and drive over the rocks and rumble until he would come to the scarred cliff face. 

“There’s a nest. And you found mamma.”


End file.
